


In Bloom

by Wafflesrock



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Nurse/Patient relationship, Recovery, Reluctant friends, Romance, dealing with bias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 78,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflesrock/pseuds/Wafflesrock
Summary: New to the Citadel, along with waves of other human immigrants 13 years after the First Contact War, a young nurse is assigned one of Huerta's most difficult patients. As she works with him though, Tosca learns there's more to Tenzen Vallokius then most realize, and as he gradually lets down his walls, the pair find themselves falling in love. In an era when turian/human relationships are still rare, they must overcome numerous obstacles in order to find their own happily ever after.





	1. First Day on the Job

Huerta was far larger than any hospital she’d ever worked at on Earth. The large corridors and seemingly endless hallways full of doors and benches - some with alcoves and water features - were more extravagant than anything she’d seen even while working in London and New York City.

It was hard not to get distracted as she made her way to the front intake desk, but Tosca forced herself to focus on the salarian who was furiously typing away at his kiosk. Pausing at the counter, she waited to be acknowledged. But, as the seconds and then minutes began to skate by without the salarian so much as glancing up at her, she finally cleared her throat.

Onyx colored eyes greeted her even while his hands kept moving. “Inquiring about visiting hours? Times posted on wall monitor near bathroom.” He nodded off to the right before turning back to his screen once more.

Tosca spared a look at her outfit. She was dressed in nurses whites with the customary supportive shoes that the rest of the medical staff wore. Why did he think she was a visitor?

“Actually,” she said, trying not to sound as put out as she felt, “I’m a nurse. I just transferred here from Earth. Tosca Sharif?”

The salarian’s long fingers hovered over the holographic keypad as he at last gave her his full attention. “Ah, a new hire. Splendid,” he replied seeming instantly more personable. Turning in his swivel chair he reached into a desk drawer and grabbed several datapads and what looked like an I.D. badge.

“Employee handbook, registration forms, and temporary I.D. Will need to have photograph taken for permanent I.D. and full hospital access,” he informed her as Tosca scanned the I.D. into her omni-tool. “Will be shadowing nurse Athuza for today,” he continued. “She is currently in the recovery ward - floor J. Go find her and fill out paperwork as instructed.”

The salarian gave her a large, genuine smile before returning to his work once more. Sensing that their conversation was finished, Tosca made her way to one of the gleaming elevators behind the desk and entered floor J as her destination.

She shifted on her feet as the elevator climbed higher, trying to shake off any lingering anxiety. This was her dream job, after all. Working for a major hospital off planet, meeting new people, new _species_. Earth just seemed dull in comparison to all the Citadel had to offer.

The doors swooshed open into an alcove that led to a long hallway full of rooms. Unsure which room nurse Athuza was in, Tosca peered into each one as she went, looking for an asari in nurses attire. At least, she assumed Athuza was an asari. It sounded like an asari name, anyway. She supposed she could ask any employee to point her Athuza’s way though.

As she reached the middle of the hall, shouting could be heard echoing off the otherwise serene walls and paintings. Curious, Tosca trotted over to the source of the racket, stepping inside the door and narrowly missing getting hit in the head by a cup full of green liquid.

A tall, irritated looking asari clad in a nurses uniform was glaring down at a black plated turian with yellow colony markings on his chin and lower mandibles. The turian patient was propped up in his bed by a mountain of white pillows, his blue hospital shirt pooling over his shoulders.

Despite having never seen a turian in person before, Tosca could immediately tell this one was furious. This observation was further fueled by the angry buzzing noise he was making in his subvocals, which sounded like someone had kicked a wasp's nest.

“I want an actual doctor!” The turian yelled. “Not some incompetent nurse who’s constantly trying to drug me!”

“Mr. Vallokius,” the asari replied in a strained voice, “I have already explained to you several times now, that in order to heal properly you have to remain completely inert after surgery - something you seem incapable of doing without the use of sedatives.”

“That’s a filthy fucking lie!” The turian retorted, pushing himself up higher on the bed. “You just hate that I keep pointing out your ineptitude!”

The asari threw up her hands in frustration and defeat. “Fine Mr. Vallokius, you don’t want to follow your doctor’s recommendations? So be it. Your recovery and physical therapy will take twice as long to accomplish and it’ll be entirely of your own doing.”

“None of this is my fault!” Mr. Vallokius boomed after the asari’s retreating back. “If you weren’t such a half-wit and actually _listened_ to what I asked for earlier - ” He cut off mid-tirade, noticing Tosca for the first time. “A human? Is this your idea of a joke? It doesn’t know anything about turian anatomy! Other than to dismember a corpse maybe!”

The asari gave Tosca a devious grin before turning back to the fuming Mr. Vallokius. “Nurse Tosca is well versed in the care and treatment of all Milky Way species - as are all staff assigned to this floor. She will be taking over as your primary care provider and eventual physical therapist.” A thin smile graced the asari’s blue lips. “Any attempts to request a replacement will be seen as blatant racism on your part, and I sincerely doubt your commanding officer will want to hear that his self-proclaimed ‘top-soldier’ is behaving in a racist manner toward humans nearly 13 years after the Relay 314 Incident.”

Beckoning for a stunned Tosca to follow her, the asari swept out of the room before Mr. Vallokius could respond.

Not wanting to get yelled at herself, Tosca quickly followed her. “Nurse Athuza, I presume?”

“Yes indeed,” the asari smiled, facial features sliding into a relaxed, friendly arraignment. “Sorry to throw you to the varren, so to speak. Despite his attitude, Mr. Vallokius does have a good case for a new hire. He’s recovering from extensive reconstruction surgery on his shins and will need physical therapy. I read your file, kinesiology is your specialty, correct?”

“Yes,” Tosca answered with a nod. “I’ve studied the muscle and recovery trends for all the major council races, including turians. I can handle Mr. Vallokius,” she added, not wanting to seem like the large turian would intimidate her, though truth be told she’d never had a patient as... _difficult_ as he seemed. 

Athuza gave her a kind smile, azure eyes twinkling in mischief. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. He’s all bluster and loud noises anyway. Most turians are, I’ve found. It’s why I can never date them.” Athuza led them both to a closed door, sweeping her badge over the console to allow them access to what appeared to be a break room. “Now, salarians. _There’s_ a race of gentlemen,” she continued. “Well mannered and intellectual, always good conversation. If you’re looking outside your race, try there.”

Slightly taken aback by the advice Tosca merely nodded. Did she even find salarians attractive? She hadn’t been around enough to know. She hadn’t been around _any_ other races outside her own to tell if a cross-species relationship was something she’d be interested in.

Athuza took a seat at one of the small tables and pulled up her omni-tool. “Alright,” she said, all professionalism once more. “You can follow me on my rounds today and fill out the forms I’m sure you’ve already received. Tomorrow, you’ll cover this floor with me, I’ll check in on you and you can come to me with any questions, but the goal will be to get you confident enough to handle a shift here on your own.”

“Sounds good,” Tosca agreed, arranging her data pads on the table top. She’d be the best damn new hire Athuza had ever met, she swore to herself. And she’d get Mr. Vallokius through his physical therapy no matter what insult he launched her way.

**********

She’d spent the evening getting to know her new roommates, an asari maiden, Trella, and another human girl, Alma. Both were energetic and outgoing and Tosca immediately liked them.

Huerta had a program to assist new staff coming from off station to find housing. If you agreed to live with roommates, also staff, there was a sizable discount on rent. Not being precisely wealthy at the moment - or ever, really - Tosca had opted to share a living space. It’d be nice to have someone to come home to at the end of the day anyway.

Alma worked in the pediatrics ward and Trella in surgery. Having people to share hospital gossip with was extremely fun, Tosca quickly discovered.

“I’d never seen a turian before,” Tosca told the other two as they sat eating asari style spiced-noodles from take-out boxes. “And this one was so pissed! And arrogant, oh my God, you should have heard the things he said to nurse Athuza!”

Alma snorted. “Athuza is almost a matriarch, she’s been a nurse longer than most of her patients or their parents have been alive.”

“Was this turian patient named Tenzen Vallokius?” Trella asked.

“Yeah, you heard of him?” Tosca inquired, reaching for her glass of wine.

“Oh, I’ve heard about him.” Trella rolled her sapphire eyes. “I assisted Doctor Leaven in the surgery on his shins. Right up until the anesthesia took effect he was demanding to know the doctor’s credentials and every minute aspect of the surgery. Then he woke up a complete and utter - what’s the human term? Bitch?”

Alma nodded, her mouth full.

“Either way, he’s been terrorizing the nurses on the recovery floor,” Trella went on. “So much so, that I heard he’s had his private room privileges revoked. He gets a roommate starting tomorrow.”

Alma snorted out a laugh. “Serves him right, sounds like.”

“Who is he anyway?” Tosca asked. “His file was kinda sparse on the nature of his injury.”

Trella made a huffing sound. “He’s in the Hierarchy Blackwatch - it’s like their special ops,” she added when both humans looked confused. “Don't mention it to him unless you want to hear about the turian military and how he’s basically royalty there for hours on end.”

“See, this is why I work with children,” Alma said. “They say the funniest stuff and none of it’s mean-spirited.”

“Enough about work,” Trella declared. “Let’s discuss what we’re doing tomorrow night. I’ve been here a couple galactic months now so I can show you both the best clubs and museums and restaurants.” 

“What’s cheapest?” Tosca asked, feeling embarrassed at needing to inquire. She grew up in a middle class family, but the Citadel was wildly expensive. After rent, food, and other necessities there wasn’t a ton of credits left over for recreation.

“Hmm,” Trella said, tapping her chin. “Dinner at one of the venders in Kithoi Ward and then checking out what’s playing at the Amphitheater? That’s good times on a budget.”

Tosca and Alma readily agreed. The group stayed up chatting for several more hours before turning in for the night, though Tosca found it difficult to sleep. Tomorrow night sounded fun, but she needed to survive her work shift first. If Trella was right and Mr. Vallokius was gaining a roommate she could bet that his attitude was going to take another dramatic slump. And while she put on a brave front to Athuza and anyone else who asked, she was dreading having to see the green-eyed turian again.

The following morning as she pulled her long, umber hair up into a ponytail before stepping out into the hallway of floor J she could tell what room Mr. Vallokius had been moved to by the loud, yelling conversation taking place four doors down.

Sure enough, she found him in a shouting match with an extremely large and rather amused looking krogan. The krogan was a hulking thing with a dented, pock-marked brown crest and absolutely stunning amethyst eyes. He had a weathered look about him that spoke of a life begun centuries ago, though the life seemed to have been a decent one given his round stomach and what looked like laugh lines at his eyes.

When she entered the room, the krogan immediately rearranged himself to give her a polite bow. “Ah nurse,” he greeted in a voice that spoke of culture and excessive education. “I apologize for the noise. Tenzen here seems to have an issue with my use of tobacco.”

“It smells like literal shit!” Mr. Vallokius shouted, turning to face her. In an instant, his mandibles flared out from his face exposing white, blade like teeth that hearkened to drawings of dinosaurs Tosca had seen in museums. His eyes, a deep forest green, roved over her, taking in every feature and flaw that made up her five foot frame.

“There’s no rule that says I can’t use Tuchanka Chew,” the krogan said, interrupting the sudden silence. “And just so we’re clear Tenzen, I intend to chew it all day. It does wonders for the sinuses.”

Mentally slapping herself Tosca moved to check the krogan’s chart. His preferred name was listed as Amadeus, which she found intriguing. “Amadeus was the name of a famous human composure,” she told him as she went over his vitals.

“Ah, I am aware,” Amadeus replied. “You humans have simply glorious classical music - I admit I’ve become a bit obsessed. I have it playing in my studio while I paint, so inspiring.”

Mr. Vallokius scoffed from his side of the room. “Please,” he retorted, flicking his mandibles out in a gesture that seemed rude. “A bunch of pyjacks banging on drums is inspiring? Maybe for your primitive finger-painting, but everyone knows turian chorus is the epitome of the fine arts.”

Amadeus laughed loudly, a happy, jolly sound with a smokey undercurrent that Tosca decided she liked. “Why Tenzen, I didn’t realize you were such a comedian!” The krogan continued to chuckle to himself as he moved to take a large pinch of tobacco from a round tin. The smell wasn’t what she’d call pleasant, but it wasn’t horrible either.

Moving over to a seething Mr. Vallokius, Tosca took a moment to admire his colony markings. The bold, yellow stripe on his chin reminded her of a tulip, like those that grew in the fields around her native Holland. Though such a happy, cheery flower seemed unsuited for a cantankerous grouch.

“Why are you staring at me?” Mr. Vallokius suddenly asked, plates avalanching down his face to give him an air of suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Tosca apologized, quickly burying her face in his chart so he wouldn’t see her blush. “I was just admiring your colony markings.”

“Pons is a dumpster fire,” Amadeus commented. “The Hierarchy is constantly sending in troops to put down anarchists. Their main export is _xemna,_ your equivalent of cattle,” he informed her. “Not necessarily somewhere to be proud of.”

“How dare you!” Mr. Vallokius growled.

“What? Are you going to say I’m wrong?” The krogan cast him a skeptical look and surprisingly Mr. Vallokius pinched his mandibles tightly to his face and didn’t respond.

“Well, I think the colony markings are nice,” Tosca felt compelled to say, feeling a twinge of pity. “The one on your chin reminds me of a yellow flower.”

She’d meant it as a compliment, but by Amadeus’ thundering laugh and the open mouth look of horror on Mr. Vallokius’ face she realized too late it had sounded insulting.

“Tulips are a really prized flower on Earth,” she added lamely as Amadeus doubled over in his large bed, body heaving with sobbing laughs.

“You’re an idiot!” Mr. Vallokius informed her. “Only a dumb human would think Pons’ colony markings look like a flower! How did you even get hired here? Some sexual favor to the director? There’s too many humans on the Citadel as it is, we don’t need another one as stupid as you running around.”

Her sympathy vanished in an instant, replaced by simmering fury. “Can it, Tulip,” she told him in a less than professional tone. “I was hired because I was top of my class with impeccable recommendations.” She leaned closer to Mr. Vallokius - Tenzen the Tulip - and gave him a savage, toothy grin. “We’re going to be working very closely together during your recovery. Your attitude and behavior will dictate how smoothly that work goes.”

Pulling back from the stunned looking turian, Tosca exited the room to find Athuza, Amadeus’s howling laughter bouncing off the walls after her. 


	2. Another Side to Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xemna - the turian equivalent of cattle.
> 
> lacerta - large, reptilian-like creatures turians used as mounts back in their early civilization. Still utilized on some agrarian colony worlds.
> 
> culus - a palaveni term for an ass-hole.

He’d begun researching his would-be torturer as soon as the krogan had fallen asleep, reeking of horrible tobacco and snoring like a sky car with a bad engine. 

He went to the obvious sources of information first; hospital personal files and social media. The diminutive human with eyes that couldn’t decide if they were green or brown was named Tosca Sharif and was fresh from Earth. Youngest of three daughters, parents separated and mother remarried. Single, now residing with roommates on the Citadel, one asari and one other human female. 

She hadn’t been lying about her qualifications as a nurse. Using back channels via his omni-tool and Blackwatch hacking protocol he ascertained that nurse Tosca was, indeed, highly educated at an Earth University called Cambridge, working at numerous large and prestigious hospitals on the planet before transferring to Huerta. 

She had no military affiliation, and Tenzen wasn’t sure how to feel about that. An untrained torturer was often more brutal than one with instruction and his mind conjured all types of terrible horrors the human might inflict on him while ‘assisting’ in his recovery. 

Stories from his superior about the humans of shanxi nailing turian soldiers to crosses after ripping open their chests to expose internal organs to vicious birds and insects flitted through his mind. Or just as barbaric, human soldiers removing teeth and mandibles from dead turians to craft into macabre jewelry.

It wouldn’t be that difficult for her, he mused. To remove a tooth, make crude carvings on it and wear it like a totem? As he sat pondering counter-measures to Tosca’s depravity, Amadeus stirred from his cocoon of blankets off to the left. 

“Mmmph, what are you doing up so early?” the krogan asked in a groggy voice. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” Tenzen replied automatically. 

“Researching our human nurse, hmm?”

Tenzen’s hand hesitated above the glowing interface of his tool. “Are you spying on me?” he asked in a low voice, eyes slowly lifting to stare at his roommate. 

“Don’t flatter yourself honey,” Amadeus retorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re as transparent as a window and as paranoid as a sinner among saints. Of course you’re looking up any dingy detail you can on nurse Tosca.”

Tenzen snorted. “You’re not the one she threatened.”

“Threatened? Defending herself from your vulgar slander is hardly a threat.” The krogan yawned, making a production of the affair by sticking his tongue out in Tenzen’s direction. “Maybe, just maybe, if you behaved like one of the Hierarchy’s finest instead of a raging _culus_ you’d get along with your nurse - and others for that matter.”

“You know nothing about the situation or me!” Tenzen snapped. “Many humans are still bitter over the Relay 314 incident, I have no reason to trust her. Or anyone else for that matter,” he added after considering it. 

“Indeed. It must be a lonely life you lead herding _xemna_ on _lacerta_ back, your hand the only source of company or solace when you ache.” Amadeus stretched before searching out his vile tin of tobacco. “Your ignorance is perhaps the only sharp thing about you,” he continued. “Given how new nurse Tosca appears to the Citadel she likely hasn’t encountered many turians, and you’re doing a phenomenal job of making your entire race look like uncouth, foul-mouthed, barbarians.” 

Tenzen roared out a litany of profane phrases in his subvocals, most of which Amadeus could certainly hear though not understand. “It’ll be a cold day on Palaven when I take advice from a _krogan_ on how to behave civilized! You can act as refined as you want, it doesn’t change the fact Tuchanka is an irradiated shit hole and the krogan a mass of leaderless mercenaries who are about as useless as their testicles!”

“Ah, but you see Tenzen, unlike you I don’t try to deny the facts. I simply rise above them.” Amadeus took an obscenely large pinch of tobacco and began to calmly chew it before activating the vid screen and turning the channel to a reality show. “Try not insulting her. You’d be surprised how far that alone takes you,” he said, not bothering to look in Tenzen’s direction and so not seeing his advice being taken to heart. 

**********

Tosca had vowed after the comments about her intelligence and chastity that she wouldn’t allow herself to be verbally assaulted or bullied. Tulip might be twice her size but as Athuza said, he was all bluster and loud noises. 

He thought he could intimidate her? She’d show him it took a lot more than cruel jabs to dissuade Tosca Sharif!

Mentally, she prepared herself for battle, determined to show the black-plated turian he couldn’t get away with treating her like shit, and also showing Athuza and others that she could handle any patient she was assigned, no matter how ill-tempered. 

Shoulders squared, jaw set, hair pulled back and makeup flawlessly applied, she entered room J-4 a soldier ready for battle. 

For these reasons, she was completely caught off guard when Tulip’s first words to her upon entering his room weren’t an insult, but rather a gruff “hello” and polite - if not forced - nod. It was enough to throw off the persona she’d cultivated on the elevator ride up there and make her cautiously wish him a good morning in return. 

Not wanting to look nervous in front of a predator species, Tosca quickly took charge of what needed to happen with Tulip and Amadeus. “Alright Amadeus,” she said, deciding to start with the more pleasant of the two first. “I need a blood sample for the lab to make sure your medication is working the way it should.”

The large krogan grimaced. “I abhor needles,” he told her. “But, if you must, you must. I’m fully willing to cooperate.” 

Out of the corner of her eye Tosca saw Tulip do a dramatic head roll in response to the statement. Figuring it had more to do with he and Amadeus than herself, she ignored him and set about doing the blood draw. 

Amadeus looked away the entire time, sighing in relief when she’d finished. “All done,” she informed him with a gentle pat to the arm. 

“Thank you my dear,” he replied, rubbing the area where she’d applied medi-gel. 

Giving him a smile and placing the vials of orange blood on a tray, she next moved over to Tulip. “Tenzen,” she said, nearly slipping and referring to him as Tulip, “you’re marked down as in need of assistance with a shower today.”

Tulip made a series of clicking sounds with his mandibles, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that looked embarrassed. “I am due for a shower,” he muttered mostly to himself before his shoulders slumped. “Fine, I will need some help washing my legs.”

“More than that probably,” Amadeus commented from his breakfast plate which he’d pulled onto his lap. “Turians aren’t exactly a limber bunch, prepare to get familiar.”

“How would you know any of that?” Tulip demanded. “Stop fantasizing about me you perverted old lump!”

Amadeus snorted. “I don’t think anyone fantasizes about _you_ , Tenzen. He’s a bit short for a turian,” he mock-whispered to Tosca. “And it’s no secret that your species is, dare I say it, stiff? Whenever I’ve had a turian model for myself or students it’s been an experiment in what pose they actually _can_ strike.”

“My height and flexibility are none of your concern, nor is my treatment!” Tulip declared as Tosca rolled a hover chair over to his bed. 

He looked at the chair as though it were a stockade meant to humiliate him, the green auroras of his eyes dimming with despair into a clouded jade. 

“It’s just to get to the shower and back,” Tosca told him, careful to keep her voice soft but not to sound cajoling and risk upsetting him. 

Tulip sighed, tossing his bed sheet aside and lowering himself into the chair. It was the first time Tosca had seen the damage to his shins, and to say it was bad would have been the understatement of the cycle. 

The plating itself looked like a shattered window-pane that had been glued back together. Vicious, jagged cracks and breaks ran from the knees down to Tulip’s ankles and the softer, ash-colored hide was still swollen with pale white scars lacing across them from where bones had undoubtedly been fused back together. 

The most noticeable feature of Tenzen’s legs, however, were the brilliant, bright yellow tattoos that covered nearly every inch of black plating. They looked almost tribal in nature, forming bold geometric patterns that ran up his thighs and disappeared beneath the hospital gown. They adorned his arm plating too, she noticed, stopping at the wrists. She wondered if he was tattooed all over like in some human cultures, but her thoughts stopped short when her eyes met his again. 

He was giving her a look she couldn’t easily identify. It didn’t seem angry, but it wasn’t pleased, either; his eyes were hard as hailstones and his mandibles were pinched to his face though the tips were fluttering lightly. 

Clearing her throat, Tosca moved to push the chair up the hall and to the showering station. Selecting one of the larger shower stalls toward the back, she helped Tulip situate himself on the bench before handing him a mesh bag of dextro toiletries and pulling the shower curtain closed. 

“Just let me know when you need assistance,” she called to him as the water turned on. 

She heard him grunt in acknowledgment and stepped away to allow him some privacy. As she waited, she wondered about Amadeus’s comment that Tulip was short for his species. He certainly seemed giant to her; he had to be at least 6 foot 7, 6 foot 8. She vaguely recalled the average height for a male turian being somewhere close to 7 feet. Maybe when he could stand he’d seem smaller than average?

“Nurse,” a duel toned voice called. 

Trotting over to the shower, Tosca paused at the curtain. “Do you need some help?” she asked. 

There was a pause before a resigned “yes” responded. 

Pulling back the beige curtain, Tosca stepped inside, mindful of the slick flooring and took the offered sponge. Sure enough, the yellow tattoos covered Tulip’s cowl, most of his chest, shoulders, and hips. She forced herself to focus on Tulip’s face and not make him uncomfortable. 

“I can’t reach my shins or feet,” Tulip said begrudgingly. 

“I can do that,” she told him, squatting down and gently applying the sponge to his delicate shins. He hissed in pain when she touched him but waved off her concern when she looked up. Carefully, she lathered his shins and then digitigrade feet, quietly marveling at the long, black-tipped talons on each toe. 

When she’d finished she stood up to look at him, noticing how he quickly averted his eyes from where he’d undoubtedly been staring at her work. “Thank you,” he murmured so softly she almost missed it. 

“Of course,” she answered. “I’ll get you a fresh gown while you finish up.”

Heading to a locker, she pulled out a sea-foam green hospital gown which she thought would go well with his eyes. Not that he or anyone else cared, but even a simple touch like a coordinated gown could mean something to someone stuck in a hospital for an extended period of time. 

Tulip had dried off with a towel hanging nearby by the time she returned. Once dressed and back in his chair, Tosca headed for his room. 

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Tosca began, sure he would mind to a degree, “how did you sustain your injuries? It wasn’t listed in your chart.”

“Landmine,” Tulip grunted. “My own stupid fault,” he added in a dejected tone as they entered his room, a sad sounding whir in his secondary voice. 

Sensing the topic was a sensitive one, Tosca let it go, though wondered that the damage hadn’t been worse if Tulip had accidentally stepped on a landmine. Turians were naturally armored, perhaps his plating had absorbed most of the blast?

As Tulip situated himself in his bed once more, Tosca glanced at the vid Amadeus was watching and nearly gasped in delight. “True Grit? I love John Wayne movies!” She moved closer to the screen to watch Rooster charging three horsemen, pistols blazing. 

“This film is what humans refer to as a Western?” Amadeus asked.

Tosca nodded. She and her grandfather used to make a thing of watching western movies on Sunday afternoons when she and her sisters would visit. Her sisters weren’t too interested and usually left to do something else unless the cowboy protagonist was especially handsome, but Tosca was enthralled with everything about the genera and American West in general, from line dancing, to cowboy hats, to horseback riding. 

“What _is_ that thing?” Tulip inquired from across the room.

“The horse?” Tosca asked. “It’s a type of animal humans have used for centuries as a means of transport or hauling carts and wagons. They’re still used to a lesser degree on large cattle ranches.”

She sighed wistfully. She’d only ridden a horse once, while visiting family in Morocco, but the memory was one her mind had turned into a perfect, picturesque moment. The buckskin gelding walking along a park at sunset,ears pricked forward as it followed the horse in front of them, the feeling of being up so high above the earth yet still so close to it. The smell of sweat and muscle and the sound of hooves stamping onto gravel.

“It doesn’t seem like it’d be able to defend its rider from predators,” Tulip commented. 

“Not everything is a mean tempered, slobbering _lacerta,”_ Amadeus replied. 

“Lacerta?” Tosca questioned, trying out the word.

“The Hierarchy’s answer to the horse, it would seem.” What could only be called a shit eating grin suddenly spread across Amadeus’s face. “Tenzen is quite the expert on _lacertas,_ actually. A regular turian ‘cowboy’ from Pons.”

“Really?” Tosca asked turning to Tulip, excitement ringing loud in her voice. 

Clearly he hadn’t been expecting her reaction as he closed his mouth to whatever he’d been planning to say, plates shifting into a look of confusion and then suspicion. “I… suppose if riding _lacertas_ and herding _xemna_ before entering boot camp makes me a… cowboy… then I was one. Once. When I was younger. To avoid my mothers.”

“Did you have special clothes? Or hats?” Her mind whirled as she tried to picture Tulip - or any turian really - in a cowboy hat with jeans and a large, shiny belt buckle. The image was actually rather dashing, she decided.

“I... suppose there was attire better equipped for the job?” Tulip looked downright confused now, peering at her as though she was mentally insane, though the ice that seemed to permanently haunt his irises had thawed and a deep, green fire could be seen smoldering in his eyes. She liked this unguarded look and hoped she’d get to see more of it. 

She wanted to ask if Tulip had any pictures on his omni-tool from his cowboy days but a ping from her own wrist signaled she was needed elsewhere. Collecting Amadeus’s blood sample she excused herself, albeit with a huge smile still plastered on her face. 

She’d have to convince Alma and Trella to do a movie night, she decided. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could even find a club that offered country line dancing. Trella would at least try it and it’d been years since she’d been able to put on her boots and dance. 

There was a definite spring to her step as images of the plains, plaid shirts, and Tulip wearing a western-style hat filled her mind. Turian cowboys! Who would’ve thought?


	3. Two Different Evenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of vomit

As the medications gradually drained from his system and his mind became fully alert, Tenzen found that he was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of boredom. He could only sleep and fiddle with his omni-tool for so many hours before the urge to get up and _do_ something nearly overwhelmed him. But of course, he couldn’t get out of bed on his own.

Even when Amadeus would crank the climate control in their room up to an unbearable degree Tenzen kept the sheet over his lower legs. The wreckage that were his shins pained him more than just physically, and he dared not look at them more than necessary.

The doctors assured him that with physical therapy he’d walk again in a matter of months, but that was it; walk. No mention of running or jumping or the other physical activities required of a Blackwatch infiltrator.

Seeing his shattered legs only served to remind him that the career he’d worked so hard to achieve was effectively over. General Oraka liked him, he’d get re-posted somewhere decent - maybe still be capable of climbing the ranks - but his days in the Blackwatch were done, even without the official transfer papers memorializing it.

And he was trapped. Tethered to a hospital bed without the ability to ride his skycycle and allow the wind whipping past his face to carry his misery away with it. The company was abysmal as well.

“Turn it off!” Tenzen demanded as Amadeus turned the vid screen to yet another tacky reality show. “I’ve already endured a lifetime's worth of shit programing, I refuse to suffer through ‘Days of Blue’ one more time!”

“Each episode is different, so technically you won’t be ‘suffering through' the same thing again,” Amadeus calmly intoned, making no move to change the channel.

Tenzen let out a subvocal howl of frustration and rage. Amadeus responded by turning up the volume on the vid screen as two asari in ridiculous looking dresses started to fight while party goers looked on in feigned shock.

“It’s foolhardy of Anala to insult Umbra while she’s holding a glass of wine.” The krogan noted. “That’s cheap human produced rose too, only good as throwing wine.”

“Throwing wine?” Tenzen asked in disgust. Suddenly the darker blue asari threw the contents of her wine glass all over the one she was quarreling with before sticking her nose in the air and sashaying off camera.

“Ahh, what I wouldn’t give to be at a fancy gala with my own glass of throwing wine,” Amadeus lamented, leaning back into his pillows.

“This show is stupid! Nothing in it is real, that was all planned!”

“I really doubt anyone would sacrifice a Nemina B’Sara cocktail gown for pure entertainment. See the corsair silk? Completely ruined. That’s the real tragedy in all this.” Amadeus sighed, shaking his massive head in dismay.

“Change the channel!” Tenzen repeated, a warning growl to his subharmonics. “You’ve watched whatever you wanted all day, it’s my turn to pick something!”

“Much as you refuse to ‘suffer’ through reality television, I refuse to suffer through a turian war documentary.” Amadeus made a show of clutching the vid screen remote to his chest.

“Change the fucking channel now!” Head turning in frantic search of a projectile, Tenzen’s eyes alighted upon the fork left over from his dinner. He hurled it at the krogan, taking supreme satisfaction in the dull thud it made as it bounced off Amadeus’s crest.

“Ow,” the krogan deadpanned. “You’re definitely not getting this now.” He tucked the remote against his side, giving it a loving pat before shooting Tenzen a smug look.

Tenzen leaned as far as he could over the side of his bed, talons outstretched. “When I can walk again I swear -”

“Mr Vallokius! Mr. Amadeus!” The tall, pill-pushing asari nurse - Athuza or something pretentious sounding - strode into their room, blue lightning crackling behind her irises. “There are other patients attempting to sleep and your petty, loud arguing is keeping them awake.” The nurse stormed over to Amadeus and held out her hand expectantly. The krogan begrudgingly gave her the remote, a pouting, juvenile expression settling over his face.

“If you two cannot agree on a program then _I’ll_ choose one for you,” the asari said with an air of finality.

“Where’s Tosca?” Tenzen demanded. The human was bizarre, but surely _she’d_ see the injustice in Amadeus coveting the remote all day and refusing to share.

“Nurse Tosca is off for the evening, so I’m afraid you’ll be dealing with me,” Athuza replied, her glacial eyes boring into his own.

“Tenzen’s **obsessed** with our human nurse,” Amadeus piped up. “Talks about her constantly and tries to stalk her on the extranet when he thinks no one is paying attention.”

“Is that so?” The asari arched a brow as she settled on a show. “In that case Mr. Vallokius, perhaps you’ll enjoy this vid - it’s an ancient human movie. The human patients have said it’s a classic.”

Music poured from the screen as the nurse pocketed the remote and left the room.

“Bambi?” Amadeus questioned. “Is that the name of a person or place?”

“Who cares,” Tenzen glowered. “This is all your fault.”

Amadeus didn’t answer, amethyst eyes glued to the screen which had erupted in color. The images appeared to be crudely painted or drawn, though it became clear the film was focused on some strange ungulate creature who lived in a forest.

“This is worse than reality television,” Tenzen muttered, even as he settled into his blankets. He had no clue why a movie would focus on what was clearly a prey species. Was this some ill-conceived attempt at atonement on humanities part for enjoying meat? Stupid, pointless, terrible.

Amadeus meanwhile was hypnotized by the colorful drivel, clasping his hands to his chest and letting out soft gasps of delight, every now and then murmuring things like “stunning, goes flawlessly with the music, astounding.”

“You would enjoy this,” Tenzen finally commented. “Its dancing finger paints - your favorite.”

“Are you even paying attention to the story?” The krogan seemed genuinely baffled that Tenzen wasn’t likewise swooning. “It’s so romantic, as young love tends to be.”

“I can’t understand half the things they’re talking about,” Tenzen huffed. “What in the spirits’ names does ‘twitterpated’ even mean?”

“Why, becoming enamored with someone of course! Pay attention to the context Tenzen.”

“Enamored.” Tenzen scoffed flicking out his mandibles in distaste. Of course on top of everything else this primitive painted movie was about _love_. He despised romance vids and their oversimplification of everything. The closer you were to someone, the more it hurt when they were ripped away. Be that romantic, platonic, or familial love. In the vids the lover never left, or else always returned. Real life was far more savage when it came to affairs of the heart.

“Have you ever been twitterpated Tenzen?”

The question took him completely by surprise, throwing him out of the claustrophobic, melancholy tunnel he’d driven down.

“Of course not!” he answered once his mind had worked through the question.

“Ah, I didn’t think so.” Amadeus gave him a pitying look. “You’d have to trust someone to fall in love, after all.”

“Love is overrated,” Tenzen responded. “Only gets in the way of work and progress.”

“But when your life has worn threadbare and your end gazes back at you from behind closed eyelids, will work give you the comfort you’ll so desperately crave?” Amadeus sighed, the pitying expression lingering as he regarded him. “Life is only a borrowed thing; borrowed bone and sinew that we must all return to somewhere when we go. Love, is the only gift we can take with us, the one thing that we can truly keep. I hope you’ll get to experience that someday.” 

The gentle hush that crept into the room, drowning out the music and chatter of the vidscreen made Tenzen feel like he was suffocating. He’d received enough pity throughout his life; condolences over his parents death, sympathy that his adoptive mothers had divorced, empathy over his injury and a promising career cut short. This was new though - a pity for something he’d never known, not something he’d lost.

Tenzen shifted uncomfortably in his bed, feeling exposed and out of his depth. “And I suppose you’re twitterpated?” he said, trying to deflect the conversation elsewhere.

“Without a doubt,” Amadeus answered with a smile, returning his attention back to the vid. “My boyfriend, Klash, is planning to visit next week. You’ll probably hate him,” he added with a widening grin.

Tenzen didn’t answer, eyes watching the movie while his mind drifted to thoughts of an emotion he’d never allowed to take root.

**********

“Hurry up Tosca! Goddess, I’m in heels and I can walk faster than you can in those… boots.”

Tosca huffed, trotting to keep up with her friends. She’d managed to find a club that actually offered human style line-dancing, with a relatively cheap cover. Alma had rolled her eyes at the idea but agreed to go and Trella had been curious about a new human dance style. Now, the three of them were headed to Nebula Night Club on an off night in the hopes of indulging Tosca in her once favorite pastime.

“You’re going to like it, I swear!” Tosca told Trella as she looped her arm with the asari’s to keep pace.

“I’m only here for the cute cowgirls,” Alma informed her. “Low rise jeans and plaid halter tops are a look I can definitely agree with.” Alma adjusted her own halter top as she spoke, making sure her cleavage was on prominent display. 

Tosca snorted as the trio approached the entrance. A human bouncer dressed in black leather pants and a black fringe jacket and shirt waved them inside.

“So, I said ‘cute cowgirls’ not the midnight cowboy,” Alma stated as they entered the dimly lit main room. There were cactus shaped Christmas lights dangling from the ceiling, with chili pepper statues behind the bar. A human woman in a gray cowboy hat adorned with a feather stood behind the bar, chatting with a pair of asari. Otherwise, the place was decidedly a human venue.

“Alright,” Trella clapped her hands together. “First we have a few drinks, then try to dance?”

“Sounds good to me,” Alma answered, gaze landing on the bartender. “The view isn’t too bad here at least.”

“So,” Tosca started, taking a sip of her Long Island. “The dances are pretty easy to learn.” She pulled up her omni-tool which was already cued to a vid. “This dance is called the ‘Watermelon Crawl' and it’s a pretty popular one.” She let the vid play as Trella watched and Alma chuckled.

“The few times I’ve ever gone line-dancing the only song I can remember was called “God Bless Texas” or something,” Alma said.

“That’s another fun one!” Tosca grinned, taking a bigger drink of her cocktail. “It’s better if you have a belt buckle though.” She wondered if she could convince her mother to ship her the collection of leather belts and buckles she’d accumulated over the years. She’d brought her cowboy boots with her to the Citadel, but forgone the rest of her country attire.

“Okay, I think I get the idea,” Trella said finishing off her deep purple drink and signaling the bartender for another.

Tosca finished her own drink just as the music began to pick up and the announcer called out for people to take to the floor. “Alright folks, who’s ready for the Tush Push?”

Trella glanced at Tosca who was already feeling looser after her drink and contemplating a second one after this number. “Just watch the person in front of you,” Tosca advised, falling into line between Alma and Trella.

As the music picked up and people began to move, heels and boots stamping the faux wooden floor, Tosca couldn’t help the colossal grin that spread across her face as she fell into the familiar steps and rhythm. Alma and Trella fumbled a bit, moves disjointed as they tried to keep pace with everyone else, but by the end they were both smiling and enthusiastic to try another song.

Tosca lost count of the number of cocktails she’d had - she’d kept to the cheaper concoctions, but their bartender seemed to have taken a liking to Alma and the woman was heavy handed with the liquor. By the time Trella had said she didn’t feel good and wanted to go home, the room and walking in general had become a blurry, stumbling affair.

They piled out onto the bustling walkway of the Zakera Ward, having decided to call a shuttle. However, locating the terminal - which Tosca could have sworn was close-by - seemed to take forever. Upon finally locating a terminal, Trella collapsed onto the ground, head in her hands and legs splayed out so that her underwear was on full display.

Tosca stumbled up to the terminal, studying it with bleary eyes as though it were an impossible riddle. Gracelessly, she began taping at the interface, hoping the overly bright script would somehow suddenly make sense.

“Did you guysss, you guys see the bartender?” Alma slurred. “Wha a fox! Did, did you know her name, name is Reba? Wasn’t tha… someone famous had that name, right?”

“A famous country singer, lady performer,” Tosca said, abandoning the shuttle terminal as a lost cause. She leaned heavily against the steel frame to keep from swaying. Was the Citadel losing altitude? Is that why things were spinning?

“Ladies, is everything all right over here?”

The abrupt appearance of a dual toned voice had Tosca squinting at blue armor and…

“Tulip?” she asked, swaying over to the turian before losing her balance and falling against his armored chest.

“This is Officer Chellick, I have three females outside of Nebula Night Club, two humans, one asari, all grossly intoxicated,” the not-Tulip turian said to someone she couldn’t see. “Understood, I have the situation under control,” he stated after a brief pause.

“Hey,” Alma interrupted, staggering over to where Tosca was leaning against the turian officer… Chellick?

“Hey,” Alma repeated. “This… is a pussy party. No… no…” she gestured vaguely toward the turian’s crotch.

“Ma’am, you and your friends are extremely drunk and cannot be out on the street in your current condition, it is a violation of Citadel Ordinance 009 -”

“I don’t feel goooodddd,” Trella suddenly announced, staggering to her feet. “I need a trash can to puke in!”

“Ma’am! Vomiting in a public waste disposal -”

“I **said,** this is a pussy party, why are we still talking to this **penis**?” Alma demanded.

“Trella,” Tosca whined, reaching out a hand to her friend. “Come, come here.”

There was a disgruntled sounding grunt as Trella flung herself onto Chellick along with Tosca, tears starting to stream down her blue face. “My stomach hurts!” Trella cried.

“Puke and you’ll feel... Better?” Tosca suggested.

“Where do you live?” Chellick was inquiring, voice robbed of its authority and replaced by something desperate sounding. “I’ll hail you a skycar, just don’t -”

Trella pushed off the turian officer just as her chest heaved and she emptied the neon-purple contents of stomach onto his boots.

“Eww!” Alma screeched.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna, I have to barf too,” Tosca gagged.

“No more vomit!” Officer Chellick begged, but it was too late. Tosca retched onto his left arm and chest before stumbling over to where Trella was leaning against the skycar terminal.

“I feel better now,” Trella told her.

“Spirits!”

Tosca glanced back over her shoulder to where Officer Chellick was standing frozen in place, hands held out from his body and facial plates collapsing into a look of utter disgust and horror. At least, that’s what she thought the expression looked like.

“Sorry we barfed on you,” Tosca called out meekly.

Chellick shook his head, green eyes snapping closed for a moment before he hurried over to the terminal. “Where do you live?” he asked in a sad sounding voice.

“None of your -” Alma began, but Tosca cut her off, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Giving Officer Chellick their address and falling into the skycar that appeared, Tosca caught a final glimpse of their vomit streaked rescuer through the rear-view window. _Poor guy,_ she thought. _If I ever see him again, I’ll owe him a coffee_.

The last thing she was conscious of was falling into her bed fully clothed before the sweet oblivion of sleep claimed her. 


	4. Road to Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culus – Colloquial word for “asshole.”

Everything was too loud or else too bright as Tosca limped her way through the front entrance of Huerta, Trella slowly trailing alongside her, adorned in a pair of dark sunglasses. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Tosca whined as they walked toward the elevators. “Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Goddess, I could ask you the same question,” Trella answered. 

The elevator doors opened with a gust of air revealing Eeju, the salarian receptionist Tosca had met on her first day. He lifted his head from his omni-tool long enough to nod at her before noticing Trella. 

The dark chalices of his eyes suddenly spilled over with an excitement Tosca had never seen before. “Oh! Nurse Trella! Good morning - er afternoon. Is all well with you?”

Eeju made no move to exit the elevator and determined not to be late in addition to being hung-over, Tosca shoved Trella into the lift as she pressed the buttons for their respective floors. 

“I feel like death warmed over,” Trella informed Eeju as she leaned against the cold, steel wall of the elevator. 

“Ah! Erm. You’re sick?” Eeju hedged a guess.

“Something like that,” Trella mumbled. 

“We went out last night,” Tosca supplied when Eeju looked confused. “Had a few too many drinks.”

“Oh! Have remedy for that!” Eeju brightened. “Old salarian tea recipe. Can bring you some on your lunch break?” he offered Trella. “Erm, you too,” he added to Tosca as an after-thought. 

“No thanks,” Tosca sighed as the elevator stopped at Trella’s floor. 

“I’ll take some,” Trella said as she stepped out of the elevator. 

“It’s a date!” Tosca heard Eeju declare as the doors shut again. 

Tosca wondered if Trella was aware of her coworker’s apparent crush before she mentally commanded herself to focus on the task at hand. Today, Tulip started his physical therapy and if she couldn’t pull it together she was positive he’d make her **very** aware of every misstep and shortcoming. 

Groaning at her own idiocy for getting so drunk before a work shift, she checked her reflection in the metal surface of the elevator. She’d used concealer for the dark circles under her eyes and tossed on some extra blush. She _looked_ fine, even if she felt like she wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for 90 years. 

Getting off on floor J, she forced herself to walk tall as she stowed her personal items and collected her medical charts before heading to Tulip’s room. The usual sounds of shouting and bickering were notably absent and for a moment she worried something had happened to Tulip or Amadeus. Then, raucous laughter drifted out into the hallway. 

Amadeus and another krogan were stuffed comically onto his bed with a cornucopia of snacks laid out before them. On the vidscreen, a recognizable animated movie was playing, though Tosca couldn’t remember the name. 

“You’re such a Gaston, Tenzen!” Amadeus declared while the other krogan, a male sporting a green crest and coal black eyes, laughed around what looked like a burrito of some kind. 

“It’s because you’re an arrogant dick!” the new krogan bellowed, pointing a finger at a furious looking Tulip. 

“Hello?” Tosca said by way of announcing herself. 

“Ah, nurse Tosca,” Amadeus replied looking genuinely pleased to see her. “Allow me to introduce my boyfriend, Klash.”

“Hey,” Klash grunted to her with a friendly nod. 

“He’s been away on business and _finally_ found the time to come visit me,” Amadeus stated dramatically, flinging himself across Klash’s lap. 

“We need to leave and start my physio immediately,” Tulip said loudly. “Where’s the hoverchair?”

“If you’re ready,” Tosca answered, caught off guard by his eagerness. 

“Very ready, let’s go,” Tulip responded as he began to shift himself off the bed. 

Tosca retreated to the hall to grab a spare hoverchair and pushed it over to Tulip who quickly dove in and situated himself. “Let’s go,” he told her. 

“Come now Tenzen,” Amadeus called after them, “it was a compliment. You said you didn’t want to be compared to the beast if he was only going to turn into a love-sick fool!”

Cackles followed them down the hallway and to the back of the floor where a large workout room complete with wading pool was situated. 

“Spirits damned krogan!” Tulip fumed as they reached their destination. “Forcing me to watch poorly drawn love stories, giving me unsolicited romantic advice!”

Tosca snorted in spite of herself, earning her a glare from Tulip. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m sure the teasing has been a bit much.”

“It has,” Tulip assured her as she parked the hoverchair near the pool. 

“Today,” Tosca started as she lowered a ramp to the pool, “we’re going to practice walking in the water, using the twin beams here for balance.”

“Yes, I read through the comprehensive rehabilitation plan you provided,” Tulip answered with a wave of his hand. 

“So, do you have swimwear on under your -”

Tosca cut off as Tulip stripped out of his medical gown, leaving him completely bare except for a small scrap of blue fabric covering his groin plates. She’d seen him naked before when helping him bathe - and given that turian genitals were all internal there was nothing to see anyway - but something about Tulip wearing a speedo had her gawking like a tourist who’d accidentally wandered onto a nude beach. 

Tulip cleared his throat and Tosca snapped her mouth shut, shaking her head to clear it. “Sorry, I’ve never seen a turian swimsuit before,” she mumbled hoping she wasn’t blushing. 

Tulip didn’t respond, but allowed her to help him out of the chair and into the pool. The water only came up to his waist, perfect for the exercises she had planned. Stripping off her scrubs so that she was left in her own bathing suit - an unattractive teal colored one-piece the hospital had insisted on - Tosca lowered herself into the water next to Tulip. 

Tulip immediately pretended to stare at a motivational poster behind her, but Tosca was positive his eyes had been on her waist and ass. _Hopefully he doesn’t think I look repulsive,_ she thought fleetingly before deciding she didn’t care what he thought. Well, not that much anyway. 

“Okay Tenzen, I want to gage where you’re at,” she told him. “Using the beams for balance, walk as far as you can down the lane.”

Tulip looked down through the clear water at his damaged shins before nodding to himself and beginning to walk. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, even encumbered by the pool. His strides were long and purposeful, though after three steps he began to falter before suddenly collapsing. 

Tosca rushed to his side, grabbing him by the arm and allowing him to lean against her, his breath coming out in labored pants. “Fuck!” he spat in frustration and dismay, subvocals lowering to a melancholy buzz. 

“That was actually better than I was expecting,” Tosca informed him. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to walk at all.”

Tulip gave her what she took for a skeptical glance. 

“I’m serious,” she said, a smile stretching across her face as she spoke. “This was actually a great start, we might be ahead of schedule recovery wise.”

“Really?” Tulip asked, a mandible flicking out in the whisper of a smile. 

“Definitely,” Tosca assured him. 

The rest of their session focused on stretches and strengthening exercises using various rubber bands and a ball. Tulip gave it his all, pushing himself to do everything she asked, the epitome of a soldier following commands. 

When they’d finished and Tosca had helped him shower off and change into a fresh gown he grabbed her hand as she made to push him back to his room. “Don’t make me go back there,” he implored, eyes open and pleading. 

“Amadeus and Klash can’t be that bad,” Tosca answered, wondering what the krogan had done to traumatize Tulip so severely that he’d want to spend time with her instead. 

Tulip moved his hand, sighing. “They’re planning to marathon something called Disney vids, and they keep comparing me to the characters and offering me advice on how not to die alone.” His mandibles pinched firmly to his face in aggravation.

Tosca had never considered Tulip’s romantic life, but being single herself when both her sisters were married could be extremely annoying at family gatherings; everyone wanted to know when _she’d_ find someone, shouldn’t _she_ be as happy as Fatima and Najat were with their husbands and children?

“You can come with me on my rounds?” she offered.

Tulip looked up at her, plates shifting into a relaxed position. “I’d like that,” he said softly.

He held her medical charts and other items as she checked in on her other patients. Some of them - notably the turians and humans - seemed shocked that Tulip was acting as her assistant and even asking questions from time to time about her job. 

What was more surprising to Tosca was that Tulip was actually willing to answer some questions about himself. “I don’t understand your fascination with my time as a _xemna_ hand,” he told her after she’d barraged him with questions about his cowboy days. “The occupation itself is seen as low class and a means of survival - there’s nothing alluring about it. I only did it to avoid being around my mothers after their divorce.”

“It’s different in human culture,” she replied as they finished up with their rounds. “It’s a hard, lonely life, sure, but vids and stories have romanticized it. And I really like the clothes. And dances.”

“Cowboys have specific dances?” Tulip gave her an incredulous look. 

“Line dancing!” Tosca exclaimed. “Here, I’ll show you.” Pulling up a vid on her tool, she crouched next to Tulip to show him, making sure the vid she chose depicted the men in boots and cowboy hats.”

He watched intently, cocking his head to the side, almost like a parrot. “It really is a thing,” he muttered after the vid had finished. “You… like this kind of attire and dancing?”

“I LOVE line dancing,” she gushed. “I even found a club on the Citadel that offers it on Tuesday nights! You should come some time,” she added before remembering herself and the fact Tulip couldn’t stand on his own, let alone dance. “I mean... when you’re better, if you wanted to go I think you’d enjoy it too,” she amended in a rush. Had she just flirted with him? Did that violate any rules?

“I, eh,” Tulip rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding the chart in his lap mesmerizing. “The steps do have an order to them that’s… appealing,” he said looking to her almost shyly. “Maybe when I can walk again…” he trailed off, mandibles fluttering against his face like a butterfly’s wing. 

“Deal,” Tosca grinned back at him before the pair finally returned to Tulip’s room. 

“Oh good, you’re back,” Amadeus said as Tosca positioned the chair next to Tulip’s bed. “Klash and I were just discussing if Tenzen is more of an Ursula or Triton. I believe he’s Triton given the loud outbursts and fits of destruction he seems prone to, while Klash here thinks outside the hospital setting Tenzen is an evil sea hag compensating for his short stature by manipulating those around him.”

“Leave him alone,” Tosca scowled. “He’s not bothering you, let him rest.”

The krogan looked between her and Tulip, intrigue and surprise playing across their features. “You’re right,” Amadeus replied after a moment, “I apologize for our boorish behavior.” He dipped his head in Tulip’s direction. The turian grunted in response. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Tenzen,” Tosca said. As she turned her back to leave, a smile crossed her face at the prospect. 

**********

Klash was on the Citadel for two galactic weeks before needing to return to Illium where he worked as a private bodyguard. It had been two of the worst weeks Tenzen could remember, and he spent as much time with Tosca as he could, watching line dancing vids on his omni-tool after she needed to leave in an effort to drown out the krogan and their annoyingly pretentious - on Amadeus’s end anyway - conversations about art and science. 

Worse was when they’d try to include him in the discussion. Whatever he said, Amadeus declared as ‘ignorant’ and Klash would shrug saying pityingly that he was a ‘dumb turian.’ Not that the green crested brute had anything intellectual to say - his interests appeared to be solely focused on guns and fighting. Typical krogan. Tenzen wondered what in the spirits’ names Amadeus saw in him. 

When Klash finally left Tenzen breathed a sigh of relief. That was, until Amadeus began lamenting at volume. 

“Only two weeks? That’s all he requested off?” The krogan flung himself back on his pillows, the magenta dressing gown Klash had brought for him pooling around his knees. “I’m worth at _least_ three weeks off.”

“Is this what I get to look forward to now?” Tenzen demanded. “You acting all theatrical and melodramatic?”

“Ugh, you wouldn’t understand,” Amadeus sighed throwing an arm over his eyes. “The closest thing to a romantic relationship you have are your therapy dates with nurse Tosca.”

“Those aren’t dates!” Tenzen snapped even as he felt the hide of his neck heat up in response to the idea. Hadn’t he technically agreed to go line dancing with her once he could walk? Was that a date?

“You’re not just doing physio, I know you go with her on her rounds.” Amadeus lifted his arm to peer at Tenzen. “Spending time with someone you’re attracted to, talking with them, sharing interests, that’s a date.” 

“I’m not attracted to her!”

“Please.” Amadeus rolled over on his side so that he was facing Tenzen. “You sleep talk you know,” he said, a smirk creeping over his face. “I’m not sure what our good nurse is doing to you in those dreams, but you’re definitely not complaining. The only reason Klash and I didn’t say anything sooner is because we’re happy you’ve finally become twitterpated.”

“None of that’s true!” Tenzen lied. He was aware he talked in his sleep sometimes, though he could rarely remember what he’d said or was dreaming about. Was he actually…

“Ohhh Tosca, yesssss!” The impression was disturbingly good even without subvocals. Amadeus laughed loudly at Tenzen’s stunned expression. 

“I’m leaving!” Tenzen declared as he reached for the hoverchair Tosca had left near his bed. Situating himself, he used the control panel to steer out of the room and toward the workout area. 

Tosca wasn’t bad looking, he admitted to himself. She had a narrow, strong waist which was accentuated by her round ass, and her skin reminded him of flower petals with how smooth and soft it was. Not that he was into that sort of thing. He liked his women with plates and talons, angles and edges. His blood was as blue as any other turian - he could appreciate Tosca’s physical appearance but that didn’t mean… didn’t mean… 

Unbidden his mind painted images of the petite human without her swimsuit, lying wantonly on a bed and beckoning to him to join her. The picture was imperfect since he’d never seen a naked human before, but it still had his groin plates loosening. He subconsciously growled in arousal before mentally slapping himself. This was exactly what Amadeus wanted! He wasn’t about to let the old _culus_ win. With a snort, Tenzen moved to the center of the room to work on his exercises. 

When he’d exhausted himself with the band and ball routines Tosca had given him, he moved on to the free weights, determined not to let his body atrophy. But when his muscles screamed in protest he finally had to call it a day. He fell to watching more dancing vids on his tool, in no mood to return to his room and Amadeus’s pouting or else teasing. 

As he watched the humans line dancing an idea struck him. If he could sync his omni-tool to the hover chair, he might be able to mimic some of the dance moves. One particular dance, the 4-Corner, looked simplistic enough. It took some tinkering, but eventually he succeeded in commanding the chair to perform the specific moves, and as he whirled about the open space of the workout room, for the first time in a month, he actually felt free.


	5. The Pons Cowboy

“I still say you should have danced with that cowboy who kept complimenting your smile,” Trella said as she, Tosca, and Alma walked back through the door of their apartment. “He seemed handsome enough.”

“Eh, he’s a man,” Alma commented, walking to the kitchen in search of a snack. “He wasn’t ugly though,” she admitted as she rummaged through the fridge. “You holding out for someone?” she asked Tosca, peering over the fridge door. 

“No, I just didn’t feel like dancing with anyone,” Tosca replied as she pulled off her boots. 

“All you’ve talked about for _weeks_ is wishing you had a sexy cowboy dance partner,” Trella pressed with narrowed eyes. 

“Alright, who are they,” Alma demanded returning with an apple. “Spill it.”

“Oh my God, no one! Just because you two are dating people doesn’t mean I need someone!” Tosca attempted to flee to her room but not before Alma’s sing-song voice caught up with her. 

“We’ll find out eventually!” 

She wasn’t holding out for anyone. She just hadn’t met the right person. Justin, the human man from the bar, had been nice enough, but she found herself forcing smiles and giggling just to fill the empty silence. He was… boring. The conversation had felt stilted and she wasn’t going to pursue a spark that simply didn’t exist. 

_What am I looking for?_ She wondered to herself as she crawled into bed. It wasn’t Justin. But, it’d be nice to have someone, like Alma had Reba and Trella Eeju. Images of cowboys on horseback filled her dreams, voices soft and eyes inexplicably green. 

**********

His progress seemed slow, though Tosca assured him he was actually ahead of schedule. Next week he was going to graduate out of the hoverchair and into a custom turian walker. No amount of cajoling or subtle hints was going to speed that transition up though. Tosca ran a tight ship when it came to his physio and Tenzen had gradually submitted to her authority on the matter, albeit begrudgingly. 

However, there was someone whose leadership and governance he’d follow without question. General Septimus Oraka was a legend within the Hierarchy military, and Tenzen took no small amount of pride in being able to call the man a friend. Just what had caused the famed General to take an interest in _him_ , of all people, Tenzen didn’t know, but when Oraka had pinged him an hour ago to say he was on the Citadel for a meeting and wanted to stop by and check in on Tenzen’s recovery, it was all he could do not to constantly check his omni-tool for the time. 

“You’re almost as excited for this General friend of yours as you are for Tosca,” Amadeus commented when Tenzen checked his tool for the fifth time in as many minutes. “He must _really_ be a beauty to compete with our nurse.”

Tenzen sputtered at the insinuation. “General Oraka is a highly tiered and highly decorated soldier,” he informed Amadeus. “Some of his most notable victories were campaigns against the krogan as a matter of fact, and I’ll thank you to keep your pretentious mouth shut while he’s here.”

Amadeus snorted. “A victory over my people in a skirmish some 50 odd years ago? Whoop-de-doo.” He spun a single finger in the air as he spoke before rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you in front of your super important _friend_.” 

True to his word, when Oraka did arrive in an impeccably tailored neon pink and green turian suit with matching head covering, Amadeus picked up a fashion catalog and didn’t spare the man another glance. 

“Ah, Vallokius!” Oraka exclaimed, deep voice jovial and vocals friendly. “You hardly look injured at all! You must be due for release soon?” The older man pulled up a chair from the corner of the room to sit near Tenzen’s bed. 

“If I’m able to get around with a walker without falling, I can move to a cane and then do physical therapy from home - or a hotel as it were,” Tenzen amended. There was no way he could afford an apartment on the Citadel. His salary had been good, but not nearly enough for the cost of living here. Not without a roommate anyway, and if he wasn’t on a ship, Tenzen wasn’t about to share his living space. 

“A hotel? Nonsense! You can stay at my apartment once you’re cleared from the hospital.”

Tenzen had to force his lower mandible not to drop. “Sir, that is too generous an offer, I couldn’t possibly -”

“You’re staying at my residence once you’re released, consider it an order,” Oraka interjected, authority drumming in his subvocals. “The krogan might be barbaric brutes, but the Hierarchy is willing to pay to keep them in their place. It’s allowed me to afford my apartment here and I’m rarely on the Citadel anymore. Consider my home yours as long as you need it.”

Amadeus let out a huff of laughter at the krogan comment, causing Oraka to scowl at him. “How long have you been forced to cohabitate with this… person?” he asked, subharmonics singing out distrust. 

“ _Too long,_ ” Tenzen answered with his subvocals, not wanting to directly insult Amadeus when he’d be forced to live with the fallout later. 

Oraka’s eyes focused in on the magazine Amadeus was perusing. “I see,” he replied, turning back to Tenzen. “I’m sorry for your current situation and company, but once you’re fit for duty I’ll see to it you land somewhere suitable. Your superiors speak highly of you, have you considered seeking a promotion as a Captain? We could use someone like you with the fleet; not afraid to do the necessary dirty work, impeccable service record.” 

A Captain? _Him_? He couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the idea. 

“Think about it,” Oraka said with a friendly shoulder squeeze. “I wish I could stay longer to chat, but duty calls. Rest well Vallokius, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Oraka left with a polite nod of his head. As he disappeared down the hall Amadeus muttered “I’d tell you to get bent, but you’d probably snap.”

“That is perhaps the most generous man in the Hierarchy!” Tenzen responded angrily. “How dare you insult him!”

“Generous to you maybe,” the krogan answered setting down his magazine. “He’s an arrogant racist who acted like I was a waste of space, I hope I never see him or his tacky clothes again.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual,” Tenzen retorted.

“There’s always more to people than meets the eye, but him? I’d be stunned if that poorly dressed prick isn’t hollow inside,” Amadeus declared. 

“Because your associates are so much better?” Tenzen spat, thinking of how obnoxious Klash had been. “Your idiot boyfriend is about as complex as a pile of rocks, you want to talk about hollow, look no further than that imbecile!”

“Klash isn’t especially cerebral, but unlike your General he actually has a heart - a damn huge one.”

“His heart is full of violence and guns! That’s all he talked about.”

Amadeus regarded him for a moment before folding his hands on his lap. “Do you know how I met Klash?” he asked. 

“Obviously not,” Tenzen answered pulling up his omni-tool to check the time. Tosca would be here soon and he’d be able to spend some time with someone _worth_ talking to. 

“Like many of my people, I was raised without hope,” Amadeus said, ignoring Tenzen’s indifference. “The genophage had stolen our future, we had nothing to strive for or aspire to. We are, as you’ve said, ‘brutes’ built for battle and violence. Why try for anything else?”

Out of the corner of his eye Tenzen saw Amadeus bow his heavy head. 

“I’m 978 years old,” the krogan went on. “I know myself and my worth. But, centuries ago, I was as lost as the rest of my race. I did what most young krogan do after their Rite; I joined a mercenary gang. I was a gun for hire, a flesh shield, and I thought that was fine at the time.”

Tenzen watched Amadeus visibly crumple in on himself as he continued. 

“One day, we were contracted to hit a luxury cruise liner. Rich tourists, the take would be enormous. We took them completely by surprise, robbed them all blind and that should have been enough. But our leader was a batarian of the worst variety, and he saw an additional opportunity. He had us round up the passengers, separate the children from their parents, load them all onto our ship and put them in holding cells. Imagine how much money we could make off the slave trade, he said.”

Amadeus hugged himself. “I was assigned guard duty the first night. The ship itself bawled with the wails, sniffs, and trills of children. _Children_.” He shook his head in shame. “I rounded up the rest of my krant in secret for a meeting. Krogan comprised a majority of the gang and I knew they were the only ones who’d care. I reminded them of all the children we’d personally lost - were still losing. Were we really such monsters to inflict that hell on others? Were we really going to sink so low as to sacrifice our own souls for a few credits?” 

Tenzen watched the old krogan with a mute fascination, foregoing his attempts at indifference. 

“Klash was the first to suggest we mutiny and free the children,” Amadeus continued. “The rest of the krogan followed his lead, we were ashamed of ourselves beyond words for going along with the plan in the first place. We killed the rest of the gang, landed the ship on Omega and split the take. But no one really knew what to do about the children; all different species and ages, terrified, crying out for their parents.”

Amadeus looked to Tenzen, amethyst eyes shining with moisture. “Klash gave up all his credits - not just his portion for the job, but everything he had - to get the children back to their families. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for what he almost did. For the last several hundred years, he’s given up nearly a third of his paychecks to various children’s hospitals and orphanages. Your friend, the great General Oraka, what has he done with his wealth? Purchased an apartment he barely uses?” 

Tenzen felt his mandibles pinch to his face. “Perhaps,” he began, “I misjudged Klash’s character.”

“Perhaps you did,” Amadeus shrugged. “I fell in love with Klash for his giving, generous heart. We met up again when I’d left the merc lifestyle and started taking classes on Nos Astra in art and sculpture. I wanted to bring joy and color to the world. Klash was donating money to a local hospital and got me involved with a program teaching patients in artist workshops.”

Amadeus gave Tenzen a hard stare. “Love someone who accepts you as you are and inspires you to be the best version of yourself possible. Don’t waste what little time you have on hollow fancies.” He picked up his magazine, licking a finger before turning over a glossy page. “Especially if that fancy dresses like a desperate hooker,” he added under his breath. 

Tenzen didn’t answer, instead considering what he’d do if he had as much money as General Oraka. _What would Tosca do?_ He wondered. Probably something charitable, knowing her. She had a good heart. 

**********

Tulip had been noticeably quiet during their physical therapy session. She didn’t want to pry, but wanted to ensure everything was alright. When they’d finished up for the day and he’d asked to join her on her rounds - as he always did - she finally commented on his contemplative mood. 

“The krogan got into my head,” was his response. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“What would you do with a million credits?”

She paused, walking around the hoverchair to make eye contact. “If I had a million credits?” she repeated. 

“Hypothetically,” he clarified. 

She thought about the question. Get her own apartment maybe? She’d be lonely without Trella and Alma though. She’d never had much money to her name, let alone that much. She had no idea what she’d do, she realized. 

“Maybe,” she said, “I’d invest in something? I don’t really know though. It’s hard for me to say, my family wasn’t exactly wealthy - especially after my parents divorced. I’d give some to my mom,” she decided. “She deserves a vacation. She worked two jobs in order to give me and my sisters everything we wanted in life, never complaining about how bone tired she was.”

“She sounds like a good mother,” Tulip responded softly.

“You said you had two moms, right?” Tosca asked as she went to continue pushing the hoverchair. 

“Adopted mothers,” Tulip confirmed, though his voice had taken on a gravely quality Tosca associated with irritation. “Neither were very good in the end.”

“How do you mean?” 

“Divorce… isn’t as common in turian culture as it is for humans.” Tulip stated hesitantly. “Maybe 25% of bonded couples separate. And it’s not pretty when it happens. I was 14 when my mothers blessedly ended their relationship. That didn’t stop them from trying to use me to spy on each other or relay snippets of information about how happy or better off the other was now.” He snorted in disgust. “I ran away. I only had a year before boot camp and an old family friend owned a _xemna_ ranch. He let me work there until I left for training.”

Tosca wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Her own parents' divorce hadn’t been exactly ‘pretty’ either, but her mother and father had managed to work past their differences to attend family functions and act civilly. She’d been only a little older than Tulip when they separated and never once considered running away. 

“Did you like working on the ranch?” she instead asked, not wanting to bring up more painful memories. 

“You and the _xemna_ ranch,” Tulip muttered though there was a warm sounding chuckle in his secondary larynx. “I enjoyed the freedom. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t form a bond with my _lacerta._ I haven’t been back in years, and while I’ve told you that… cowboys… aren’t viewed favorably as a career, my time there is something I look back on fondly.”

“What was your _lacerta’s_ name?” Tosca found herself asking, picturing a rugged looking Tulip tenderly petting the snout of a large monitor lizard. 

“...Sassy,” came the slightly embarrassed response. 

Tosca laughed so hard she had to stop walking. “Sassy?” she repeated. “Did you name it that?”

“No! She came with the name.” Tulip crossed his arms defensively. 

“I’m sorry,” Tosca apologized, still giggling. “That’s actually a really cute name. I was just picturing you topless with all your tattoos and some big, strong named beast patrolling the herd, a Pons cowboy and his steed.”

Tulip’s mouth fell open, green eyes going wide. It took her longer than it should have to realize that she’d admitted to fantasizing about him. Shirtless. 

“I mean, that’s not - in human culture - uhhh…”

“I, um, it’s okay. I’m flattered,” Tulip dipped his head in what looked like a shy gesture, an odd whine coming from his subvocals. “You, um, your… hair looks very attractive when you wear it that way,” he added, gesturing to how her thick, mahogany colored hair spilled down over her shoulders. She’d straightened it that morning and hadn’t felt like tying it back. Her face heated up in a blush at the compliment. 

“Thanks,” she told him, a shy smile tugging at her lips. 

The rest of her rounds were fairly uneventful and she finished early. She was loathe to leave floor J for her other duties though. Maybe it was the company that had her pushing the hoverchair extra slowly back to Tulip’s room. 

“Do you have a minute?” Tulip asked. “If you don’t have to go right away, I wanted to show you something.”

“I have time,” Tosca responded eagerly. 

“Let’s go to the work out room,” Tulip directed. 

Once the pair had returned, Tulip took control of the hoverchair, positioning himself in the center of the room. His mandibles flared out in a crooked looking turian grin before he pulled up his omni-tool and hit a series of commands.

Suddenly, country music filled the space as Tulip’s chair began to move in a familiar pattern. Tosca gasped, hands coming up to clasp her chest. “You can line dance in it?” she practically shrieked with delight. 

Tulip grinned as the chair continued to move in a forward and backwards pattern before holding his hand out to her. Tosca immediately seized it, taking up a position next to him and keeping time with the movements. When the song ended, they decided to do a few more, laughing and smiling as they danced around the empty workout room, in a world all their own. 


	6. Twitterpated

It seemed to be a given fact of life that when your friends were in happy relationships, they wanted everyone else around them to share in their joy and pair off. Tosca wasn’t a stranger to this type of thinking, but it was the first time she’d been the recipient of offers for blind dates.

“He’s really nice, loves dogs and classic rock and oh! He plays the guitar!” Reba pulled up a picture of her friend to show Tosca as Alma nodded approvingly from behind her. 

“I’ve met him a few times,” Alma added as Tosca looked uncertainly at the holo. “He was always well groomed and polite. You should give him a try!”

“I dunno,” Tosca said, turning back to her dinner. “Aren’t blind dates kinda… desperate?”

“What? No! It’s just nudging two people together,” Reba defended. 

“Maybe she’s just not interested in a human,” Trella interjected as she left her room with Eeju, both dressed for a fancy dinner out.

“If interested in salarians, I have a cousin with thing for humans?” Eeju offered. “Works for C-Sec forensics lab, _very_ successful. Smells mildly like formaldehyde.”

“Thanks Eeju, Reba, but really, I’m okay with being single.” Tosca bit back an exasperated sigh. 

“So not humans or salarians, you’ve said you prefer male presenting species…” Alma trailed off as she puzzled over Tosca like a rubix cube. 

“What about turians?” Trella asked suddenly, causing Tosca to choke on her water in surprise. 

“Ah ha!” Alma crowed. “See? There it is! You’ve got a thing for turians! Does anyone know an unattached turian guy?”

“Turians? Really?” Reba raised a red eyebrow skeptically. “They’ve always struck me as kinda… pointy. Not really made for cuddles.”

“Maybe Tosca isn’t looking to cuddle.” Alma waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“I mean, I’m not opposed to a turian,” Tosca readily admitted thinking about how handsome Tulip looked, “but it’s not like I have a fetish or something. They’d have to be a good person -”

“Trajan!” Trella gasped. “Goddess, he’d be **perfect** for you Tosca!” 

“Who is Trajan?” Eeju asked. 

“Back like, thirty years ago, I worked as a nanny for a tech firm on Illium. Trajan’s parents were employees and I used to watch him during the day,” Trella elaborated. “He’s grown into _quite_ the good looking turian,” she said meaningfully to Tosca. “And now that he’s done with his mandatory military service, he’s studying to become a lawyer here on the Citadel. Ugh! He’s perfect, why didn’t I think of him sooner?” Trella lamented.

“A hot turian lawyer, perfect!” Alma echoed.

“But I mean, would he even be interested in a human?” Tosca rubbed her arm uneasily. Tulip’s initial reaction to her had made it clear that at least some turians still held humans in contempt for the First Contact War. Not that she’d had anything to do with it. But still, while she found aspects of Tulip - well turians in general she supposed - attractive, and wasn’t weighed down by racial prejudice that didn’t mean the same would hold true for others. 

“He’s not a bigot,” Trella assured her. “He grew up on Illium, surrounded by asari, and humans look pretty similar to us. I haven’t outright asked him if he finds humans attractive, but I’m pretty sure the answer is yes.”

“Ask him right now!” Alma demanded. “Send him a picture of her!”

“No! Come on guys!” Tosca pleaded feeling her face heat up. “I’m not some piece of meat, don’t send him any holos of me!”

“If this guy’s such a catch, why didn’t you ever go for him?” Reba asked Trella. 

“Um, I used to change his diapers, there’s no way I could ever see him in a romantic or sexual light. I got along really well with his parents and ended up working as a private babysitter for them, that’s why we’ve stayed in touch,” Trella added. 

“At least let Tosca see a picture of him, help her make up her mind,” Alma suggested. 

“Of course!” Trella pulled up her omni-tool and began flipping through holos. “It’s been a couple months since I last saw him, but… here!” She thrust her tool in Tosca’s face. A picture of a male turian with copper plates and golden eyes filled the screen. He had sweeping, lilac colony markings arching over his eyes, mandibles and forehead. 

“Originally from Invictus?” Eeju asked as he looked at the holo too. 

“Yeah!” Trella affirmed. “Come on Tosca, what do you say? If he’s still single and interested in humans can I **please** show him a picture of you and pass along your contact info?”

Tosca hesitated. She hated this. All of it. But, Trajan was handsome and already seemed to have her friends’ approval. What was the worst that could happen if they went on a date? If he was also interested, shouldn’t she put herself out there a little?

“Okay, fine,” Tosca relented. “But don’t make me sound desperate or like I have a turian fetish!” 

“I’d never!” Trella promised, hand already typing out a message as she spoke. 

Tosca busied herself cleaning up her dinner and trying ardently not to think about possibly going on a date with a turian. 

**********

Tenzen was in a fantastic mood. He’d been using a walker for the last two days and was loving the new found freedom it allowed him. His shins still throbbed after physical therapy, but he was making progress, and that meant that he’d soon be able to leave Huerta and settle into some type of a normal routine while he awaited reassignment. 

Amadeus had also been making progress with his physical recovery. Unlike Tenzen, the krogan had moved right to a cane, which he’d spent countless hours painting in intricate patterns. While he’d never admit it out loud for fear of the praise going to the krogan’s already inflated ego, the end result of Amadeus's labors was captivating. 

Now able to leave his room without the use of a hoverchair, Tenzen threw himself into exercise and Hierarchy paperwork. General Oraka didn’t just casually recommend people apply for a promotion, and Tenzen wasn’t one to let opportunity pass him by. 

“Hey Tenzen,” a sweet, familiar voice greeted as he was buried in his omni-tool. “Ready for therapy?”

He looked up from what he’d been doing and smiled. “Tosca,” he greeted. “Yes, just give me a moment.” Shutting down his tool and carefully lowering himself to the floor, Tenzen followed Tosca out the door, ignoring Amadeus’s smirk as he left. 

“What were you up to?” Tosca asked as the pair entered the workout room.

“Hierarchy paperwork,” he answered. 

When she looked at him quizzically, he found himself elaborating, “I can’t go back to the Blackwatch - not with my legs the way they are. But, a General with the turian fleet suggested I try to seek an advancement. As a Captain.” The last part he said with no small amount of pride. 

“A Captain?” Tosca seemed impressed.

“Yes,” Tenzen answered, preening. “My service record is quite impressive. Even the whole landmine incident is being viewed favorably.”

“Being wounded in action usually gets you a medal in the Alliance,” Tosca said, handing him a medicine ball. 

“You’re expected to follow orders,” Tenzen commented with a grunt as he focused on keeping his balance while tossing the ball to Tosca. “Even bad ones. If you get hurt doing that, you were just doing your job.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Tosca asked as she tossed the ball over to him.

“More or less,” he sighed. “We were infiltrating a mercenary base - normally below us, but these mercs had stolen information critical to one of our colony’s security. It was supposed to be an easy mission. So easy, I volunteered to hack the doors and get the information myself while the rest of my team held back.” He stumbled as he caught the ball. “I was stupid, trying to show off. It made me careless and I never even noticed the landmines that had been laid around the floor of the console as an insurance policy.”

He shook his head as he threw the ball back without as much force as before. “It cost me my career and the best part of my life,” he muttered. A gentle hand on his shoulder took him by surprise and he looked up to see Tosca smiling at him. There were no traces of pity in her eyes, as there was with anyone else who’d heard the story. Instead, she looked amazed. 

“Surviving something like that is incredible,” she told him. “Don’t get weighed down by the what-ifs. You made it out, you’re here, and you’re looking at a prestigious advancement. Even better things are in store for you.”

In spite of the melancholy that had settled over him Tenzen flicked out his mandibles in a smile. “You think so?” he asked her.

“Definitely,” Tosca said, voice full of conviction. “You’re a survivor and a hero.”

Suddenly his shins didn’t ache so horribly, and he was able to stand at his full height without leaning on something. The pair stood grinning at each other until Tosca coughed and handed him back the medicine ball. 

“Tenzen?” she asked him after several minutes filled with small talk. “Are there any conversation topics that are considered… taboo for turians? Like, that should never be brought up at a first meeting?”

His brow plates lowered as he rumbled in confusion at the question. “What do you mean a first meeting?” he asked. 

Tosca pulled her lower lip between her teeth, an endearing habit she had when trying to figure out how to phrase something. “It’s just,” she started, “I have a date tonight, and I’ve never met the guy in person and I don’t want to ruin everything by accidentally insulting him or something.”

Tenzen’s mind short circuited as it attempted to process what she’d just said. Tosca had a date… with a turian… tonight. Who? Where had she met him? Who was this other turian? “I’m uh, sure it’ll be fine,” he replied, not wanting to make things awkward by going silent. 

“I hope so,” Tosca sighed. “He’s my roommate's friend. She showed him a picture of me and said his subvocals could have made a seasoned stripper blush. That’s a good sign, right? That he’s interested?”

There was a loud _pop_ as Tenzen’s talons sank through the thick leather of the medicine ball, sending waterfalls of sand to pool onto the floor at his feet.

“Yikes!” Tosca exclaimed, rushing over to take the mangled ball out of his hands. “Crap! This was one of the newer ones.”

“I, sorry,” Tenzen said shaking his head from the thick, cloying fog that had suddenly engulfed his thoughts. 

“It’s okay, it was an accident,” Tosca reassured him. “Here, why don’t you start working on some band exercises while I clean this up?” She offered him a large, red band which he clumsily took from her hand. 

“So… this turian you’re going on a date with,” Tenzen inquired as Tosca summoned a cleaner robot with her tool. “What tier is he?”

“Tier?” Tosca questioned.

“His rank within the Hierarchy,” he explained. “I’m fairly high tiered, being in the Blackwatch and going for a promotion,” he added. “What does your date do?”

 _Probably something low tiered,_ Tenzen thought to himself somewhat smugly. 

“He’s in law school,” Tosca answered. “He was already a lawyer on Invictus, but I guess the requirements to practice here on the Citadel are so different that he had to go back to school. Is that a high tiered job? An attorney?”

Tenzen huffed. Invictus was a backwater colony. People could say Pons was bad but it had nothing on Invictus. Everyone there was poorly educated and probably harbored separatist sympathies. No wonder this date had to go back to school, he was definitely an idiot, Tenzen decided. 

“Tenzen?” 

He realized he hadn’t answered her question and clearing his throat, begrudgingly admitted that attorneys were generally of a moderate tier. He then also made sure to inform her that Invictus was a shithole, full of imbeciles and violence. Just in case her stupid date tried to make himself seem important. 

“Is it really that bad of a colony?” Tosca marveled as they set about her rounds. 

“The worst,” Tenzen confirmed. “Don’t let him make you believe otherwise.”

“Well, I guess Amsterdam isn’t the greatest city on Earth,” she mused. “That’s where I grew up. If he moved to the Citadel to better himself then that’s pretty awesome.”

“Is it?” Tenzen asked feeling irksome. 

She gave him a confused expression and he decided to change the subject, instead asking whether she’d been line dancing lately. Internally though, he was considering just how ugly this Invictus attorney must be. He was probably hideous. 

He was still distracted when Tosca escorted him back to his room. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Tenzen,” she said somewhat awkwardly. 

Mentally slapping himself, he gave her the best smile he could muster. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he confirmed. “Have fun on your… date, tonight,” he forced himself to add. 

“I hope I do,” she said before saying goodbye to Amadeus and leaving. 

“A date, hmmm?” the krogan asked once Tosca had disappeared. “My my my, it would seem you have a rival.”

“I have no rival!” Tenzen spat more angrily then he intended. “She’s going on a date with some stupid, ugly, would-be attorney from Invictus! That’s all.”

“I see you’ve been gathering information on him,” Amadeus observed. “Are you going to stalk him on the extranet now?”

“No! Leave me alone, I don’t care what nurse Tosca does in her off time!” Tenzen pulled up his omni-tool, back to the page he’d been looking at when Tosca had first arrived.

“You might not care _what_ nurse Tosca does, but you seem to care an awful lot about _who_ she does,” Amadeus stated bluntly. 

Tenzen slowly raised his head to glare at the krogan. “Watch it,” he warned, subvocals rolling in a menacing, possessive torrent. 

Amadeus sighed. “Very well, but if you lose her it’s your own fault. She clearly has a thing for turians - and I thought you specifically - but, perhaps I was wrong.”

“You think she… is romantically attracted to me?” He hated rising to the bait, which was exactly what this was, and yet…

“I do, in fact. A pity you’re so stunted emotionally you can’t see it.”

“I’m not stunted! Anywhere!” Tenzen hastened to add before Amadeus could make fun of his slightly below average height. “Besides, I already told you, I don’t care.”

Amadeus shrugged. “Sure you don’t.” Taking a grip of his embellished cane, he made for the door. “Well, while you’re lying there not caring that nurse Tosca is going on a romantic date with another turian, I’m going on a preamble.” He left the room humming the intro to one of his terrible reality shows.

He _didn’t_ care. Tenzen went back to the Hierarchy forms he’d been looking over, but the words all seemed to run together and he couldn’t concentrate. “Stupid krogan,” he mumbled to no one. He didn’t care if Tosca went on a date. Why should he? He could go on a date and find stress relief with someone and Tosca wouldn’t care. 

It wasn’t until hours later, blanketed in the artificial dark of the Citadel’s night cycle that Tenzen decided he _did_ care. He actually cared more than he wanted to admit. But what could he do? He was trapped in the hospital still and even when released would need a cane to get around for at least another few weeks. 

He might be shorter for his species, but he was still considered attractive. He’d never struggled to find bed partners anyways. But Tosca was a human, and things were different. If he wanted to show her he was the better choice of… partner, he’d need to do something - and quickly. 

Tenzen glanced across the room to where Amadeus was loudly snoring. The krogan seemed to know more about human culture than he did. 

“Amadeus?” he called out. The krogan didn’t move. “Amadeus,” he intoned, louder this time. Still no reaction. “Amadeus!” he yelled. The krogan flew awake with a shout of something about “not in that palette!” before gathering his bearings. 

“Can I help you with something?” his roommate asked, sarcasm and irritation dripping from his voice like thick honey. 

“How do I get nurse Tosca?” Tenzen demanded, cutting right to the quick.

“How do you… “get” nurse Tosca?” Amadeus parroted back. 

“Yes. You seem to know more about human romance than most. How do I win her?”

“For starters,” the krogan said, flipping on the light sconce near his bed, “by not referring to her as an object or prize to be won.” Amadeus peered at him from deep, amethyst eyes. “Are you actually going to admit you’re twitterpated with Tosca?”

“I will never use that term!” Tenzen declared. 

“Then there was no point in waking me up,” Amadeus informed him. “Nurse Tosca is a good person and I’m not helping you ruin her possible chances at happiness solely because you want to lay her.”

“That’s not the only reason!” Tenzen blurted out before remembering himself. “I… care about her,” he admitted, crossing his arms defensively. 

“You care about her as what? A concerned citizen? A friend?” Amadeus was staring at him in a way that made Tenzen feel overly exposed and vulnerable. 

“I care about her in a _different_ way,” he bit out. 

“Different how -”

“I’m attracted to her romantically!” Tenzen exploded. “I want her to be with me, not some bastard from Invictus!”

“Well now,” Amadeus clapped his hands together in delight. “You’ve come to the right person. I’ve been reading human romance novels and watching their vids and films for years now. To put it in their terms, consider me your fairy godfather of romance!”

“What do I have to do?” Tenzen asked, feeling uncomfortable. 

“Woo her of course!”

“Woo?”

Amadeus sighed, closing his eyes. “I forgot what fresh clay I’m working with,” he said mostly to himself. “No matter, we’ll sculpt you into a regular turian Romeo yet.”

“Romeo?”

“All the vids and shows dealing with human romance seem to portray two common methods for a man to woo a woman,” Amadeus continued, ignoring Tenzen’s confusion. “Dancing and singing. Clearly dancing is out for the time being. Can you sing?”

Tenzen paused, taken aback by the question. Anyone could theoretically sing. But could he sing _well_? He never sang, either with his primary voice or vocals when others were around. He’d sung a fair deal during his time as a _xemna_ hand, alone on the range. But to serenade someone like Amadeus was suggesting? 

“Is there no other way?” he asked.

“If you want to win nurse Tosca’s heart, you need to sing from yours - that’s what everything I’ve seen says,” Amadeus informed him. 

Tenzen slumped. This was going to be humiliating. But, if it meant he’d get Tosca…

“What do I have to sing? I’ll do it.”


	7. A Burning Thing

Tosca was more anxious than she could ever remember being for a first date. She kept smoothing down invisible wrinkles in her dress and fussing with her immaculate hair as she stood outside the restaurant entrance. Maybe it was the outfit that was throwing her off? Trella had insisted that she get a new dress for the evening, and being too short to borrow anything from her roommates, Tosca had spent more credits than she should have on a royal blue, asari style dress with purposeful cutouts on either side of her waist. 

_“Turians love slim waists which you totally have, don’t be afraid to show a little skin,”_ Trella had told her.

Alma had then set upon her hair and makeup. Her human friend was convinced Tosca resembled a famous actress from over a century ago named Audrey Hepburn, and to that end had tried to emulate said actress’s appearance. Tosca supposed there were some similarities in face shape, but unlike Alma didn’t see the woman as her doppelganger.

She felt decidedly unlike herself as she scanned the faces of incoming customers looking for Trajan. When her eyes alighted on a tall, copper plated turian in a black suit she breathed a sigh of relief. _Hopefully he appreciates the effort to make me look like Miss Hepburn_ , Tosca thought as she waved to him, summoning a nervous smile to her lips. 

He flared his mandibles in a turian grin as he walked over to her, eyes like smelted gold pouring over her features and a low sounding purr echoing in his chest.

“Tosca, I presume?” His voice and vocals sounded immensely different from Tulip’s - whereas Tulip had a somewhat flanged accent that somehow reminded her of the southern United States, Trajan’s voice was decidedly European sounding. Irish, maybe? She wondered if there really were planetary dialects among turians or if her implant was just playing games with her. 

“And you must be Trajan,” she answered, shelving her thoughts on accents for the time being. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Trajan replied, gently taking her hand in his and giving a gentle nip to her wrist. “I must say, the holos Trella sent me didn’t do you justice: you’re ravishing.” 

Tosca felt her cheeks heat up in a blush as she took her hand back and turned toward the door. “You’re too kind,” she advised him as they entered the posh looking establishment. 

The fusion restaurant had been Trajan’s idea. He’d apparently been before and sworn both the levo and dextro dishes were amazing. But, as she looked around at the marble facade and gilded ceiling, Tosca mentally fretted that the cost of a meal here would be more than she could hope to afford. 

“Reservation for two under Corinthus.” Trajan told the elcor maître d. 

“With delight: Ah yes. Welcome to Alegra.” The elcor took two menus and what Tosca assumed was a wine list into a hand before nodding at them to follow. “Reserved surprise: We haven’t had a turian-human couple here before. Genuinely: It’s nice to see racial tensions finally easing.”

Neither Tosca nor Trajan responded to the comment as they were led to an elegant table draped in white linen toward the back of the restaurant. Once seated, the maître d informed them that their waiter would be with them shortly before returning to his place at the front. 

“What do you say we order a bottle of chirality neutral wine?” Trajan asked as he perused the alcohol list. 

“Sounds good,” Tosca replied, mentally bidding her months entertainment funds farewell. She should’ve looked this place up first before agreeing to it! She assumed they’d be splitting the bill but even so, this was going to hurt. 

Trajan suggested a wine whose name she couldn’t pronounce and she agreed to it, forcing herself not to look at the price. They then placed their orders with an asari waitress who also looked intrigued to see them together, though had the professionalism not to comment on it. 

“So tell me Tosca,” Trajan said pouring her a glass of wine that looked like it was made of pure sunlight. “What brings you to the Citadel?”

“Adventure, I suppose,” Tosca answered, taking her glass and swirling the contents. “I’d never been off-world, but love traveling. When the opportunity presented itself to live and work on the Citadel, I jumped at it. What about you?” she asked. “What was it that inspired you to leave Invictus?” She quietly wondered if it was the terrible crime rate Tulip had told her about. 

Trajan made a humming noise with his subvocals as he took a drink of wine from his oddly shaped cylindrical glass. “I wanted to do something on my own,” he told her. “My family is well known both on Invictus and Palaven - my uncle is a fairly high ranking Captain.” His mandibles twitched as he considered the question further. “I want to make a name for myself too, but on my own merits, not my family's.”

Tosca could understand that. Neither of her parents or close relatives were exactly famous, but not wanting to live in someone else’s shadow was something relatable regardless of species. 

Conversation soon turned to work and hobbies. Tosca told Trajan all about line dancing and country music, showing him a vid on her omni-tool as they finished their dinner. 

“It seems rather quaint,” he said after watching the vid for a few minutes. “The notion of celebrating such a demeaning occupation through ritualized dance and song is definitely one turians don’t share.”

“Why is being a cowboy - _xemna_ hand - so demeaning?” Tosca asked feeling both embarrassed and defensive at his quick dismissal. 

“I mean, you’re working with livestock,” Trajan attempted to explain. “With their smells and their… waste. Not necessarily civilized. The pay is abysmal too from what I hear.” He shook his head. “Generally only the lowest tiered turians or severely desperate work those jobs.”

Tosca was insulted on Tulip’s behalf, even though he wasn’t there to hear. She wondered if he’d agree with Trajan or get upset. Despite the cultural stigma, he’d said he genuinely loved his time on the ranch. And he’d been recommended for a prestigious promotion, _he_ wasn’t low tiered. 

“I personally enjoy playing clawball,” Trajan was saying, either ignoring or not noticing Tosca’s troubled expression. “It’s the official sport of the Hierarchy and takes not just skill, but real talent to excel at.” 

Tosca nodded politely as he went into the finer details of the game, becoming rather animated when describing how he’d scored a near impossible goal against a local team the previous weekend. 

Sports had never been Tosca’s thing. She preferred dancing and singing and the theater to soccer, football, or baseball. Unlike Trajan though, she could at least be supportive and listen attentively to what was clearly a passion of his. 

When the bill arrived, Tosca held in a sigh as she went to pull out her credit chit. Trajan stopped her by laying a large hand over her own. “I’d be a poor excuse for a date if I didn’t pay for my lovely companion’s meal,” he told her. 

Tosca tried to argue that splitting the bill was perfectly acceptable, but he wouldn’t hear it. Deciding that given the cost she shouldn’t push the issue too far, she thanked him and the pair headed out of the restaurant and onto the Presidium. 

They paused to look out over the lake which glittered in the artificial darkness like black velvet littered in crushed diamonds. “Lovely,” Trajan sighed. 

“It really is,” Tosca agreed.

“I wasn’t talking about the lake.”

Tosca turned to find Trajan staring at her with eyes like twin suns. Her stomach dropped down to her knees as her lips went suddenly dry. She knew this tension, could feel the heat on the artificial breeze. Did she want to kiss him? They didn’t have much in common, species differences aside. He’d paid for her dinner though, was she obligated to kiss him?

Trajan slowly closed the gap between them, pressing his brow against hers and closing his eyes with a content sounding purr. Tosca pressed back, relieved that he’d gone for a more subdued display of affection. “I had a wonderful evening,” he told her, eyes still shut. “Can I see you again?”

Tosca hesitated. She hadn’t really felt a spark between them, but then again, she had only met Trajan for the first time tonight. He was handsome and generous enough - and God only knew she didn’t have anything else waiting in the wings - maybe one more date, just to be sure?

“That’d be nice,” she told him, and found herself smiling at his responding grin. 

**********

It had been difficult to choose what song he’d sing for Tosca. He knew she liked country music and so had started there, but nothing seemed to feel… this had to be perfect. Tenzen wasn’t one for grand, romantic gestures, but he wasn’t about to let go of something so uniquely good in his life as Tosca without a fight. 

When he’d finally stumbled across a song that he both personally enjoyed and felt Tosca would appreciate, he ran into a secondary hurdle: where was he going to practice? Amadeus had been more than delighted at the prospect of a private concert, but the last thing Tenzen wanted was for nurse Athuza to barge into the room and demand he ‘keep it down.’

He needed privacy - or as much as he could get in the hospital anyway. The showers had been a chance discovery. He could more or less wash himself now unassisted, and while carefully scrubbing his still tender shins he’d noticed that the acoustics in the smaller space were perfect. 

His voice was hesitant at first as he struggled to remember the lyrics, pulling them up on his omni-tool as he sat wrapped up in a towel. But within an hour, he could sing the entire song by heart. 

“That was wonderful Tenzen!”

He barely managed not to jump and instead glared at the krogan who’d materialized from the doorway where he’d been covertly listening. “Stop spying on me!”

Amadeus waved him off. “Now that you have the song down, we need to discuss your outfit.”

“My outfit?” Tenzen repeated. “What do you mean my outfit?”

Amadeus hobbled over to sit next to him on the shower bench - a bit too close for Tenzen’s liking but he kept it to himself as the krogan held up his omni-tool. “Look, these are the art covers for several human romance novels,” he explained. “Notice how the males are all either shirtless or have their shirts open?”

“You… you want me to sing to Tosca… shirtless?” This was going too far. There was no way that serenading a human female while topless was a thing. Was it?

Amadeus let out a put upon sigh. “I’m trying to help you, all the pictures show topless men. If you’re uncomfortable, then you can wear one of you civilian shirts but have the front open.”

Tenzen’s mandibles pinched against his face in discomfort. This was stupid! Lo - romance was stupid! How he’d managed to find himself in this situation was beyond him, but every time he thought about telling Amadeus to forget it, an image of Tosca walking away with another turian, his hand on her waist, a dazzling smile on her lips, played in front of his mind’s eye, and it _hurt_. It was a pain he’d never experienced before, and one he couldn’t easily dismiss. 

“Will any shirt work?” he found himself inquiring. 

“I’ve seen your wardrobe here, it’s all heinously neon. Find something that doesn’t accost the eyes - preferably a light gray or blue - and have that on.”

“She’s going to think something’s wrong if she walks into our room and I’m just standing there in an open shirt!” Tenzen cringed at the image. 

“Then wait for her in here,” Amadeus suggested. “I’ll tell her you went to the shower but need help.”

That… could actually work, Tenzen decided. “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll go find a shirt.”

**********

Her eyes were still smudged with eye shadow from last night - despite her morning shower - but Tosca was feeling much more like herself clad in nurses scrubs with her hair straightened and hanging loose down her back. 

“Ah, nurse Tosca,” Amadeus greeted as she entered his room. “So glad you’re here. Tenzen went to take a shower some time ago and I think he might require assistance.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked, brow furrowing. Tulip was well on his way to recovery and didn’t need help showering anymore. Had something changed?

Amadeus made a few spastic hand gestures. “It’s just been awhile. Would probably be prudent to check on him.”

“Alright,” Tosca said, still confused. “I’ll see if he needs help.”

It was early enough where most patients were just waking up or else having breakfast. She wondered why Tulip had decided to take a shower before his physical therapy session. Usually he took one after she’d completed her rounds. 

“Tenzen,” she called as she entered the showers. “Do you need any help?”

She froze in place as Tulip turned to meet her, leaning heavily against his walker. He’d begun wearing civilian clothing over the last few weeks: usually what looked like the turian version of sweat-pants and a loose fitted shirt. He was wearing sweat-pants but the shirt was one she hadn’t seen before. It looked fancier than his pants and was completely unbuckled, showing off the yellow tattoos on his keel and chest plates. 

Tulip cleared his throat, mandibles twitching against his jaw in what looked like nervous energy. 

“Is everything alright?” Tosca asked him, tearing her eyes away from his exposed plates and hide. 

“Yes, erm. I wanted to show you something.” His voice was unusually soft and held a certain tension to it. 

“What do you want to show me?” Tosca asked, stepping further into the showers. 

“Are you, um, alone? No one else is outside?”

“I didn’t see anyone…” She wasn’t sure if she should be concerned. Tulip seemed anxious, but she had no clue what could be upsetting him. 

“Good, okay, um.” Tulip glanced down at the checkered tile floor before looking her in the face. “I… wanted to sing something for you,” he said in the same quiet voice as before.

“You want to sing for me?” This conversation had taken a bizarre turn she never could have anticipated. 

“I hope… I hope you like it,” he said before screwing his eyes shut and tilting his head downward.

For a moment, the drip of water from the showers was the only sound, but then, softly at first, Tulip began to sing:

_Love, is a burnin' thing_

_And it makes, a fiery ring_

His voice was a mere whisper, but gradually the volume increased, swelling and filling the air, enveloping her like summer fog rolling off the mountains, smokey and rich.

_Bound, by wild desire_

_I fell into a ring of fire._

Johnny Cash would have become famous much earlier if he had subvocals, Tosca decided as she stood spellbound. Tulip’s voice reminded her of whiskey and heat. He’d learned this song just for her?

_I fell into a burnin' ring of fire_

_I went down, down, down_

_And the flames went higher_

_And it burns, burns, burns_

_The ring of fire, the ring of fire._

When Tulip finished singing a thick silence lingered in the showers. He cautiously opened his eyes to look at her, vulnerability and something else swirling within green oceans. Tosca blinked, coming out of the trance she’d fallen under. 

“Tenzen, that was beautiful,” she told him. “I had no idea you could sing.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, dipping his head somewhat shyly. “So, um, you liked it?”

“I loved it!” she immediately replied. “Nobody’s ever sung for me like that.”

“Really? But isn’t singing… Isn’t that how humans… woo one another?”

“Woo?” Slowly, the pieces began to come together, though she could scarcely believe the picture they were forming. “Tenzen, are you saying that you’re… interested in me romantically?”

A whine erupted from Tulip’s chest though he swiftly tamped it down. “I… yes.”

She closed the gap between them, hands reaching out but hesitating, unsure how he’d respond to a hug. Tulip stumbled around his walker, arms wrapping around her as he pulled her close. Tosca rested her head against his warm, smooth chest plates as a low, deep purr filled the room. 

“Does this mean you’ll be my… partner?” Tulip asked after a moment.

Standing on her tip-toes, her lips pressed against his mouth plates was the only answer she could give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who thought Tenzen was going to sing a different song... This won't be the last time he serenades Tosca ;)


	8. Late Night Studies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFWish: First part contains sexual content

His last few days in Huerta passed quickly, marked by stolen, intimate moments with Tosca while she was on shift; the sweet, citrus taste of her breath on his tongue, the feel of her smooth, warm brow pressed to his, and how she felt so damn perfect in his arms. 

At night, he’d stay up late messaging her on his omni-tool. They’d discuss everything from what they ate for dinner, friends, hobbies, and most recently, steamier subjects. 

Tenzen was no stranger to sex, but there were some… logistics he needed to work out before propositioning Tosca to take their physical relationship further. 

For starters, while he’d been with an asari stripper or two, he had no clue about erogenous zones for a female human. Coupled with the fact he’d been nearly blackout drunk, asari preferred to find pleasure through mind melding and weren’t generally known to enjoy penetrative sex. From what he’d heard about humans, the opposite was true. 

He’d waited until Amadeus was loudly snoring on the opposite end of the room before concealing the light of his omni-tool beneath the bed sheet and typing in the search ‘human-turian porn.’ There were more hits than he would have imagined. Glancing over to ensure the krogan was still sound asleep, he transferred the sound from his tool to his auditory implant before choosing a vid. 

The male turian was large - taller than he was anyway - but the human female looked to be about Tosca’s height. He was initially shocked that the human used her mouth so much in foreplay, but when she sucked and hummed around the turian’s cock, head furiously bobbing up and down, the subvocal sounds of ecstasy her partner made weren’t for theatrics. Would Tosca do that? It apparently felt amazing. 

Tenzen allowed one of his hands to drift under the sheet, a finger brushing against his already parted seam. On the vid, the turian had buried his face between the human’s thighs, long, blue tongue lashing at a small nub above her entrance. The human writhed and mewled, sounding all the universe like a prey animal begging to be consumed. 

Tenzen dipped a finger inside his sheath to rub against the head of his own cock. The couple on screen meanwhile had positioned themselves with the human on all fours and the turian slowly pushing himself inside her tight, wet looking center while she moaned in pleasure. Tenzen was amazed he fit, but soon the turian had brought himself flush and set up a ruthless pace as the human’s face twisted into an open mouthed, silent scream. 

His own cock fully emerged and Tenzen began to stroke himself, slowly at first as he allowed an image of he and Tosca to replace the actors in the vid. His shins would be too sore to allow any position where he’d need to lean on them, but when the turian on screen abruptly pulled from the human to sit leaning against the headboard with her lowering herself onto him and facing the camera as he thrust up into her, he saw the solution to his problem. 

He increased the rhythm of his own hand, imagining he was fucking Tosca while she moaned his name. She’d be tight like the human actress, and wet too from what he could see. Her breasts would bounce with the force of his thrusts and he’d squeeze her slim, lithe waist. She’d feel so good, so good… he bit back a gasp as he came on his stomach, while in the vid, the turian curled around his much smaller partner, hands clumsily pinching at her nipples as his cock throbbed and he emptied himself inside her. The human went rigid before crying out her own release, the two crumpling into each other in the aftermath of their completion. 

As the heady fog cleared from his mind, Tenzen registered that Amadeus was still snoring. Falling back into his throne of pillows, he waited for his breathing to return to normal before reaching for a shirt and wiping himself off. 

The vid had definitely been informative - but still left him with more intel to collect. In addition to the nub, the nipples appeared to be an erogenous zone as well. He’d never understood breasts, other than that asari and female quarians had them for the purposes of feeding infants. He’d heard asari talk about them being sexy, and was made to understand that the bigger the breasts the more appealing. 

He didn’t get it. Tosca had breasts, but he found her waist and ass much more inviting. But if it’d feel _good_ for him to touch and massage them then he’d make an effort. 

Deciding he wasn’t tired yet, Tenzen spent the next several hours watching various vids and reading articles. When his vision became blurry and exhaustion claimed him, his dreams were filled with the promise of things to come. 

********** 

“I _still_ cannot believe Mr. Vallokius has a thing for you,” Trella declared as she sat in front of Alma, painting the other woman’s toenails a sparkling pink. “He hates everyone - humans and krogan especially.” 

Tosca shrugged, her night shirt slipping down her shoulder with the action. “He sang me a country song before asking me to be his partner,” Tosca recalled, a fond smile tickling the corners of her mouth as she read Tulip’s latest omni-tool message. “And for not having lips, he’s an amazing kisser.”

Alma snorted. “I still think if you wanted to go for a turian Trajan was a way better option.”

“We didn’t have anything in common,” Tosca sighed. “He was nice enough, but that wasn’t going to go anywhere.”

“And a relationship with grouch-o-saurus Vallokius _is_ going places?” Alma quirked a raven eyebrow. “He’s going back to the military once he’s cleared for active-duty you know. And from what I hear, the regulations on sexual conduct are non-existent for turians.”

“Turians are a loyal bunch though,” Trella interceded. “If he’s serious about her, he’ll stay away from anyone else.”

“Is he serious? Are you?”

“I don’t know yet,” Tosca replied, feeling defensive. “We literally just started seeing each other. Are you and Reba serious?”

Alma shrugged. “We’re exclusive. I’m going back to Earth with her on my next break to meet her family. I’d call that serious.”

“You’ve been together longer,” Tosca grumbled. “I don’t know what to say. Tenzen’s different around me, and he likes the same things I do, and I dunno, I think he’s handsome.”

“Well, if he makes you happy and treats you like you deserve than I’m willing to give him a chance,” Trella said, giving Tosca a smile. Her blue eyes darted up to Alma as she cleared her throat expectantly. 

“I haven’t even met him, I at least owe him the benefit of the doubt,” Alma conceded. “But just know, if he leaves you for some Hierarchy skank and breaks your heart I’ll make him wish he were still back in Huerta.”

“Thanks guys,” Tosca said shaking her head at Alma’s final words. 

“He’s getting discharged soon, where will he be staying?” Trella asked as she moved on to Alma’s other foot. 

“His superior is letting him stay at his place,” Tosca answered. “I’m going to be helping him with his out-patient physical therapy in addition to social visits, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Speaking of ‘seeing a lot of your turian boyfriend’ are you two going to, ya know, **see** a lot of each other when you go visit?”

Tosca bit her lower lip as she considered how much she wanted to divulge to her roommates. “I’ve watched some vids,” she began cautiously. “And obviously looked at medical texts and diagrams. We can definitely… work together. It’ll probably depend on how his legs are in terms of _when_ we get more familiar.”

“You’ll have to let us know how that goes,” Alma smirked. 

Mercifully, the conversation soon changed to topics of work and hobbies, though in the back of her mind Tosca wondered if Tulip had looked into cross-species intercourse too. She didn’t mind taking the lead, but it’d be nice if they both had some working knowledge of the other’s anatomy. She supposed she’d find out soon enough. 

**********

As the final hours before his discharge from Huerta approached, Tenzen found himself pacing floor J with the help of his cane. Despite feeling older than his years with it, the cane was far more liberating than the walker or hoverchair had been. His shins still ached and required copious amounts of cooling, numbing, plate ointment, but he was finally starting to believe he’d be able to stand tall on his own once more. 

“Last opportunity to have your cane personalized,” Amadeus offered as Tenzen entered their room. 

“I looked up glitter on the extranet. No thank you,” Tenzen responded as he triple checked that all his personal effects were locked away in his storage crate. 

“Your loss,” the krogan told him. “Although, I do have a parting gift for you. Something to help with your future romantic endeavors.”

Tenzen narrowed his eyes as Amadeus hobbled over with a discrete looking green bag in hand. Pulling out a familiar looking carton, Amadues pressed it into Tenzen’s talons.

He felt his facial plates avalanche down into an intense scowl as he read the Palaveni script on the package describing the contents as ‘ _chirality neutral condoms, size extra small_.’

“Not that it’s any of your business or concern, but that’s one area where I’m actually _above_ average for my species,” Tenzen informed the grinning krogan before tossing the carton back at him. 

“Ah, well, I came prepared for that highly unlikely scenario as well,” Amadeus replied pulling out a tube of chirality neutral lubricant.” 

“Where did you get these things?” Tenzen demanded. 

“I had Klash pick these items up at a shop in Kithoi that specializes in cross-species liaisons,” Amadeus answered. “You’re welcome in advance. I’d offer you suggestions on literature, but I’m well aware of your late night viewings, and judging by how _violently_ your hand moves under the sheets you seem to be enjoying what you’ve found.”

“You perverted old -”

“I’m not the one masturbating in a shared space, _you’re_ the pervert,” Amadeus accused, a large finger pointed in Tenzen’s face. “Even so, I wish you and nurse Tosca the best. Your attitude has drastically improved since wooing her, I can only imagine how you’ll act once you start making love.”

“This conversation is over,” Tenzen growled through bared teeth, subvocals pulsing in irritation. 

The krogan shrugged before lifting his arm and pressing several commands on his omni-tool. “You’re not the only one being discharged this week,” he said without looking up. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t become fond of you and your failure to resist the pull of _amore_. I’m having a gallery showing later this month, feel free to bring Tosca.”

Tenzen’s wrist pinged softly with Amadeus’s contact information. 

“And Tenzen,” the krogan called as he slowly made his way back to his bed, “you’ve found a good thing. Others of your race will no doubt try to persuade you that loving a human is wrong. They're racist philistines. Trust in your own heart and you’ll never be alone.”

Amadeus settled under the covers, taking a pinch of tobacco and turning up the volume on the vid screen to an image of three arguing salarians. 

Tenzen wordlessly tossed the tube of lubricant into his storage crate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up for readers, I'm currently 9 months pregnant and so there's a good chance weekly updates will cease for a while once my kiddo gets here. That said, I won't abandon the story and promise I will finish it. =)


	9. An Overnight Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - sexual content after the third chapter break

General Oraka’s apartment was not what he’d been expecting. Then again, he hadn’t really _had_ an image in mind, but the coral and teal paint scheme combined with the holos of seascapes seemed more in keeping with an asari aesthetic than a hardened Hierarchy General. 

The place was large, however, and immaculate. The master bedroom had a large, turian-style bed overflowing with sumptuous, white pillows and an attached bathroom with a sunken tub, perfect for soaking.

Tenzen didn’t feel comfortable unpacking his crate and storing things in the closet or drawers - he was still a mere guest after all - but he did sync his omni-tool with the apartment entertainment center. He selected a station that played human classic rock as he explored. Tosca was a fan and he found that he enjoyed the genre as well. 

Thoughts of Tosca made him pause in his perusal of the kitchen cupboards. She was coming over later in the afternoon to help him with physical therapy, and according to Amadeus, he should give her a gift. 

While some of the krogan’s relationship advice had been outdated - according to Tosca anyway - it had none-the-less worked. He let out a soft hum of dismay. What type of gift was appropriate? Limping over to sit on the plush couch with the help of his cane, he did a quick extranet search, which suggested things like flowers, chocolate, or scented candles.

He decided that none of these items sounded like Tosca. Besides, flowers would just wilt and die within a few days leaving a mess, while chocolate would melt. No, he needed a better idea, something to show her… he wasn’t precisely sure what. He wanted to give her something unique, something she couldn’t purchase or find anywhere else. 

An idea came to him. Flipping through the photographs on his omni-tool, back years and years, he finally came to the holo he was searching for. 

Photography had been a hobby ever since he was a child. Even before his biological parents’ deaths, he would traipse around outside looking for insects or plants to photograph. Time as a _xemna_ hand had provided him ample opportunity to hone his skills, and while he hesitated to call any of the images he’d taken _great_ , there were some he was genuinely proud of.

The particular picture displayed on his omni-tool was an old one, depicting the Pons range at dusk. Indigo, cobalt, and violet swirled in the endless sky, caressing the glowing twin moons with celestial hands while below, Sassy, his mount, gazed impassively over the silhouetted forms of the _xemna_ herd. It was home - or at least the image of home he liked best. 

He rarely talked about Pons, given the colony’s reputation. But somehow he felt Tosca would like this, that she’d understand despite all the political division and conflict, Pons was special. That there were pockets of peace and beauty few were privileged enough to witness. 

A mandible ghosted out in a fond half smile at memories of sleeping under the warm sky, a blanket of crushed diamonds overhead and the ambient clicks, squeaks, and chirps of insects singing him to sleep in the auburn grass. 

He rode a skycycle now instead of a _lacerta_ , the chrome and cobalt paint cold to the touch until heated from use, coming alive to roar and weave through traffic. He wondered when he’d be able to ride again. His cycle was currently in a rather expensive storage garage, though he mused he could move it to the apartment now. 

Tenzen experimentally stretched his legs out. While his shins still ached, it was a duller pain. Gone was the jagged, forked lightning of torment from months ago that left him shivering in misery, holding his breath and praying for it all to end. 

He would ask Tosca about a time-line, give himself something to look forward to. Maybe she’d want to ride with him? That… could be really fun. If she was interested. Not everyone was into that type of thing. 

Glancing at the time, Tenzen picked up his cane and hobbled back to the bedroom to change into loose-fitting clothes and wait for Tosca to arrive. As he rifled through his few possessions, he noticed how long his talons had become. Too long. 

Moving to the bathroom, talon file in hand, he set about dulling them, watching as black flecks filled the sink basin. When they were back to their usual, blunted state, he paused to consider the tips. Tosca had skin like silk and flower petals, the last thing he wanted was to accidentally cut or scratch her while engaged in more carnal endeavors. With that in mind, the file returned to its task, shortening his claws right down to the quick. 

Should he blunt anything else? Were there other sharp places on his body that could hurt her? He frowned into the bathroom mirror, feeling an odd sense of shame for how nature had shaped him.

He’d be careful. Perfect predator that he was, he could mind his natural weapons. They’d find a way to make it work.

**********

She’d expected the apartment to be nice, given it belonged to a Hierarchy General, but the place reminded her of an expensive beach villa and she was almost afraid to touch anything. 

Tulip didn’t seem entirely at home either, fidgeting slightly around glass objects and keeping his hands close to his sides. But, his flared-mandible smile combined with the soft purr that slipped from his throat when he nuzzled her brow was enough to put her at ease. 

“This place is incredible,” Tosca told him later as they both sat on the floor, Tulip still breathing heavily after completing his exercises. “I feel like I’m on vacation somewhere luxurious.”

“I know,” he agreed, reaching for his cylindrical water bottle. “I still can’t believe General Oraka is letting me stay here.”

Tosca offered him a hand as she stood, digging her heels into the thick carpet as she helped him to his feet. “Well,” she began, unsure of what to do now, “we’re done with your physio for the day. I should let you hit the shower.” She tossed a rubber band they’d been using into her red duffel bag of equipment. 

A large, three-fingered hand caught her loosely around the wrist. “Are you free tonight?” Tulip asked, voice taking on an alluring murmur. 

Tosca looked up into his evergreen eyes, bright and deep like the northern forests back on Earth. “Yeah. I have the next two days off, actually,” she answered, feeling simultaneously lost and at peace as she stared into his face. 

“Would you… like to watch a vid? With me? You could stay over. If you wanted to.” She could feel a low, humming note rippling through her skin from where Tulip held her hand. She didn’t know what it meant, but his words were clear enough: _Spend the night with me, see where things go._

“That sounds like fun,” she told him without needing to consider the matter further. “What time should I come back?” She’d need to pack an overnight bag as she sincerely doubted that Tulip or his friend had levo toiletries. 

Tulip released her hand and she swore he sighed in relief as he replied, “Come back in another four or five hours? I can order some takeout. There’s lots of restaurants around here.”

“Okay,” Tosca agreed. “I can bring a vid? I think you might like The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.”

“Sounds interesting,” Tulip said. 

Tosca grinned even as it felt like a frantic canary was flying about her rib cage. Stepping up onto her tip-toes and gripping Tulip by the front of his cowl, she pulled his face down to place a hard, passionate kiss against his mouth plates.

Tulip made a thrumming, purring subvocal as he tugged her closer, mouth parting and tongue coming out to lick inquiringly against her lips. He tasted like clove and winter spices as he wrapped his longer tongue around her own stubby pink one, tugging slightly before releasing her and tenderly nipping her lower lip.

When she opened her eyes to look into his, the green of his irises was nearly eclipsed by ebony moons. She wondered vaguely if her own pupils were blown wide in lust before forcing herself to take a step back toward her bag. “Later tonight, then,” she repeated, a promise to both of them. 

“Tonight,” Tulip echoed, eyes focused on her face and a low, thrumming vocal beating in his chest. 

She somehow managed to make it out the door, down the elevator and into a skycar without stumbling over herself, though every nerve in her body felt like it was firing at once. They were going to do this. She wanted this, wanted _him_. Taking in a deep breath, Tosca mentally made a checklist of what she wanted to do in preparation for this evening. 

**********

When she returned to Tulip’s temporary residence, her hair was washed and straightened, makeup applied sparingly, and she was wearing her favorite pair of skinny jeans with her cowgirl boots. At Trella’s suggestion, she was also wearing a form fitting shirt that accentuated her slim waist. 

Her roommates - namely Alma - had hooted in delight when she’d mentioned she was spending the night with Tulip. It had been awhile since she’d been with anyone and a cocktail of anxiety and excitement coursed through her veins as she pressed the door chime. 

Tulip had changed out of his workout attire and was wearing black and silver leggings with a lime green tunic - which was unbuckled, leaving his chest and intricate tattoos on full display. Tosca wondered if the open shirt was some kind of turian courtship thing. It certainly grabbed her attention. 

“Hey,” Tulip said with a warm purr to his vocals as he stepped aside to allow her in. 

"Hey yourself. I brought this." Tosca smiled and brandished the vid she held in hand as Tulip invited her inside. “It smells amazing in here. What did you order?”

“Ah,” Tulip answered as the door slid shut once more. “I ordered you food from an… I-tal-ian restaurant. It had the best reviews for human cuisine nearby and the person I spoke with said that their veal parmigiana was delicious.” Tulip looked suddenly unsure. “I hope you like that kind of food?”

“I love Italian food!” Tosca told him, eyes going wide in excitement as she spied the covered plate on the counter. “And veal parmigiana is one of my favorites!”

Tulip made a few content-sounding clicks in his secondary voice as he moved to pick up his own food - what looked like a blue slab of raw steak and some purple, radish like vegetables. He inclined his head towards the kitchen table where there were a few votive candles flickering in the center.

“A candlelit dinner? Now you’re just spoiling me,” Tosca teased as she took her seat. 

Tulip dipped his head in what looked like mild embarrassment. “The extranet said it would be nice,” he confessed. 

Tosca was touched that he’d gone to so much effort to give her a romantic night in. She couldn’t remember any past boyfriends putting so much thought into an evening. 

Noticing the small fish bowl of smooth stones on the table, Tosca was immediately glad she’d studied turian diets and digestion. When Tulip selected a few of the pebbles and swallowed them whole, she didn’t bat an eye. Turians, like some birds, used rocks to help grind their food. She wondered if turians tried to abstain from the stone swallowing when eating with other species for fear of looking ‘primitive’ and was privately pleased that if that were the case, Tulip was comfortable enough around her to eat normally. 

The pair chatted about the vid Tosca had brought over dinner before clearing their dishes and settling in together on the couch. Tosca curled into Tulip’s warm side, a finger idly tracing along his exposed keel ridge. She could feel more than hear his subvocals, a mix between a purr and a rumble. 

Tulip asked questions about the plot every so often but was otherwise content to wrap an arm around her and just watch. When the credits began to roll Tosca sighed and craned her neck up to look at him.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“I enjoyed it,” he told her. “The Good character was not whom I was expecting. Are there other westerns like this?”

Tosca felt a broad smile split her face. “There’s so many great western films. I have more I could show you.”

Tulip leaned down to nuzzle her brow. “I’d like that,” he murmured before suddenly pulling away. “I almost forgot, I have a present for you.”

“A present?” Tosca asked sitting up as Tulip fiddled with his omni-tool. 

“It’s not much - just a picture. But um, I thought you might like it.”

Her wrist pinged and Tosca looked at the image that had appeared on her own tool. It was a gorgeous evening shot of an alien sky and what looked like a colossal monitor lizard. “Is this Pons?” she asked.

Tulip nodded. “From back when I was a _xemna_ hand. That’s Sassy,” he added, as though reading her thoughts on the large lizard. 

“Tenzen, did you take this?”

He nodded, a shy sounding chirrup to his vocals as he dipped his head. “I know it’s not that great, but I - “

“Not that great?” The image looked like it belonged in a gallery, bordered by an expensive frame with a matching price tag. “This is incredible! I’m going to print and frame it in my room.”

“...Really?”

Tosca wondered how no one had told Tulip what an incredible photographer he was. “Tenzen, this is really, _really_ good. How long have you been doing photography?”

He released a breathless chuckle. “It’s just a hobby. I’m not a professional by any means.”

“Do you have other pictures on there too?” Tosca pointed to his omni-tool. “Can I see?”

Tulip hesitated a moment before relenting and pulling up a cache of spellbinding images. Everything from landscapes, to animals, to portraits. Tosca felt like she was looking through a professional portfolio, even though Tulip kept trying to downplay the quality. 

“You should print some of these for yourself,” she told him when she’d looked through all the pictures. “Hell, you could probably sell some of them.”

Tulip quirked his head skeptically. “I don’t know about that,” he said.

Tosca twisted so she was on her knees, hands cupping his face. “Tenzen, these are seriously amazing. Don’t doubt that,” she admonished before kissing his mouth plates. “Thank you for sharing them with me.”

His eyes searched her face, perhaps looking for a lie before he gently pulled her onto his lap. “I’m glad you like them,” he all but whispered before giving her his best approximation of a human kiss. 

Tosca moaned, opening her mouth and sucking on his tongue, a suggestion of other things she could do. The light purr Tulip had been continuously making dropped in octave, like someone moving from a kettle drum to a large bass. The sound shuttered in her bones even as his hands tightened around her waist, pressing her closer. 

She moved to suck on one of his mandible prongs, having read that they were sensitive, and was rewarded with a groan and roll of his hips. 

Not one to just sit back and enjoy the onslaught, Tulip’s hands moved to her chest where he cupped her breasts through her shirt before running ever widening circles over her nipples. Even separated by fabric it felt amazing and Tosca let out an airy gasp in response. 

“Should we… move this to the bedroom?” Tulip asked in an unusually thick voice, accent heavy and subvocals vying to drown out his primary speech. 

Tosca glanced around, noticing his cane lying on the floor nearby. His shins wouldn’t allow them to get too enthusiastic, but taking stock of their current position, she had an idea. 

“If you’re comfortable, the couch might be fun?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her hips against him to emphasize her point, noticing that something new, hot, and large had bulged at the juncture between his legs. 

“I - here?” It took Tulip a moment to work through her plan before a toothy, whetted knife smile appeared; a predator preparing to devour his prey. “Here is good,” he told her. 

Grinning in triumph, Tosca moved her hands to his plated shoulders to divest him of his tunic. There were still too many layers between them though and, taking the initiative, she pulled her own top over her head before tugging down her bra straps. It would be easier to take the thing off herself rather then test Tulip’s knowledge of human underwear. Turian females didn’t have breasts - though Tulip seemed to know they were an erogenous zone. 

Once they were both bare from the waist up, Tosca took a moment to admire Tulip’s physique beyond the realm of professionalism. He was built like a Roman gladiator, natural armor like thick rubber segmented along his shoulders, arms, and chest. His obsidian plates were so dark they seemed to glow in contrast to the ash brown color of his hide. Thick, yellow, geometric tattoos coursed through his midnight armor like warpaint. 

Turian waists were noticeably free of plating, the hide thinner to allow freedom of movement. It was an erogenous zone and one Tosca took full advantage of, leaning forward and sliding a hand to firmly grip Tulip right above the waistband of his pants. 

He sucked in a deep breath before taking hold of her waist, hands tracing from her sides back up to her breasts, squeezing them experimentally. Clawed thumbs traced lightly over her already pert nipples. Tosca threw her head back, allowing him better access as her own hands swept inside his cowl, nails running against the sensitive inner lining before searching out the soft patch of hide beneath his fringe. 

“Fuck,” Tulip breathed above the deep staccato of his subharmonics. “Tosca, can I please use my mouth on you?” 

The question seemed too polite for their sinful positions and Tosca held in a laugh as she whispered “please” into his aural canal. 

Tulip lowered his head as his long, blue tongue flicked against a nipple while he carefully pinched the other between massive fingers. For a race that evolved without breasts, he certainly seemed to know what he was doing as he replaced his tongue with his mouth, pulling on her flesh gently while running his thumb over the over. 

Tosca racked her dull nails down his waist, dipping her fingers teasingly beneath the hem.

“Want me to -” 

“- Help me take them off,” Tulip interrupted, hands flying down to tug at the offending leggings. 

Tosca made a point to slide languidly off his lap before helping him to carefully pull his pants over his leg spurs and down over his still-sensitive shins. 

Freed from the confining fabric, Tulip’s erection rose large and impressive in front of her face. He was a deep blue, the color of Earth’s oceans, thick, self lubricating, and ribbed along the underside. 

Tosca couldn’t help but stare. Seeing the real thing was so much different than a vid or medical diagram. And he seemed… _larger_ than she’d assumed. “How big are you?” she asked, running a finger lightly up his length. 

“I’m a bit larger than average,” Tulip acknowledged, staring down at her, hands twitching at his sides as she took ahold, pumping from his thick base up to his tip. “About... nine inches,” he barely managed, voice becoming strangled. “Is that - erm, will that be a problem?”

He was certainly going to be the biggest she’d ever been with, but she could feel her own arousal soaking through her underwear and dampening her jeans. So long as there was enough foreplay, she was more than eager to have him inside her. 

“Not a problem,” she told him, swirling her thumb over the head of his cock. “We’ll have to go slow at first though.”

“Of course,” he choked out, eyes closing under her ministrations. 

“Tenzen,” she asked, tongue licking her lips, “Can I use my mouth on you?”

Green eyes flew open and mandibles flared as his nasal plates twitched, scenting the air. “I’d like to try that,” he said in a strained voice. “It looks like it feels… good.”

Without giving him another moment to consider, Tosca raised up onto her knees, lowering her mouth over him and swallowing hard. 

“Spirits of Palaven!”

She chuckled around his length, causing him to let out a heady groan as she hollowed out her cheeks, sucking and nipping, releasing him with a wet sounding _pop_ to lick the underside of his shaft. His natural lubricant tasted faintly of some spice she couldn’t remember, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She began to trail sucking kisses up his length before lowering her head over him once more, using a hand to stroke his base.

“Sta - STOP!”

She immediately pulled back, concerned she’d hurt him or accidentally grazed too hard with her teeth. Tulip was panting heavily, as though he’d just run a marathon and his eyes only bore the faintest green rims as twin black pools stared back at her. 

“Too good,” he managed to get out. “I didn’t want to… Can I return the favor?”

“How?” Tosca asked. The whole point of staying on the couch was so that Tulip wouldn’t have to put pressure on his shins. Kneeling in front of her would defeat that intention. 

“Come here,” he said, offering her his hand. 

Taking it, Tosca stood up, her jeans suddenly feeling too tight. She unbuttoned the waistband and yanked them down her legs, pulling her panties off in the same motion and kicking the discarded clothes to the side. 

Tulip’s nasal plates scrunched again, mouth opening wide. “Stand over me,” he instructed. 

Catching on to his plan, Tosca climbed back onto the couch, her shorter stature placing her center level with Tulip’s face. Three-fingered hands firmly gripped her thighs, spreading her wider before he ran his tongue up her slit. 

Tosca took hold of the back of the couch so as to maintain her balance. Tulip rubbed his smooth upper mouth plate against her clit as he pushed his tongue inside her, curling it and making her moan, eyes clenched shut. His rumbling, thrumming subvocals added an entirely new sensation to the experience. He felt like the best vibrator known to man, bringing her right to the edge of pleasure before pulling back and slowing his pace, only to build up again. 

Her moan was nearly a scream when she came, pressing herself against his mouth in desperate need of more. His hands came up to support her lower back as she collapsed, trembling, onto his lap, feeling his shaft press insistently against the cleft of her ass.

“Shit,” she managed. “Tulip - Tenzen, I want you.” She was soaking wet, her body crying out for more, and his heavy, hot manhood was exactly what she needed. 

“I want you so bad,” Tulip replied, mouth catching hers, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue as she blindly reached behind her to take his length in hand. Lifting up onto shaky knees, Tosca aligned him with her center before slowly sinking down onto him. 

The smooth, sodden stretch as he filled her was nearly overwhelming. The slight upward curve of his shaft pressed against all her sensitive places, and when their hips were finally flush, she sat quivering in his lap, hands tightly gripping his shoulders to ground herself. 

“Spirits-fucking-shit!” Tulip practically sobbed. “You’re so tight! So tight! So wet!”

His hands were gripping her waist so tightly she was sure she’d bruise, but the endorphin rush of having him fully seated inside her drowned out any discomfort. Rising slowly, she gasped at how perfect they fit before lowering herself once more. Finding no discomfort but feeling too shaky to ride him like she wanted, she forced her eyes open before giving her turian soldier his commands. 

“Fuck me, Tenzen,” she ordered. “I want you hard and fast, I want -”

With a strength she’d known he possessed but was still surprising, he lifted her bodily off his cock before slamming her back down again, setting a ruthless pace as he pumped into her, vocals morphing from the low, distant rumble of thunder to a deafening roar. 

Tosca screamed out in pleasure, gripping onto Tulip’s cowl as pinpricks of electricity rushed up from her core and tore through her. She cursed, she begged, she called him Tulip as he rushed against her, an ebony river swollen with raging currents that pulled her under while she was all too happy to drown.

Vaguely she registered her thighs chaffing against his plates as the wet smack of skin against hide filled her ears, but the discomfort was minor in comparison to the euphoria which had flooded her senses. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Tulip rasped over vocals that throttled his normal speech. “I’m gonna cum, can I - inside?”

“Cum in me, Tulip!”

With a flanged roar and what might have been a “yes!” Tulip pulled her down onto him as his cock twitched. There was a rush of warmth before Tosca collapsed onto his chest, mindful of his keel. 

He wrapped his arms around her, body heaving from exertion as he buried his head in the juncture of her shoulder, mandibles flaring out into her hair. They lay together for what could have been an eternity before Tosca slowly pushed herself off his lap, the remnants of their coupling running down her raw thighs. 

“That was incredible,” she breathed. 

“Wow,” was all Tulip managed, though the expression in his eyes as he looked at her, as though she were the only thing in creation worth looking at, had her feeling warm for reasons completely unrelated to the mind blowing sex. 

She rested her head against his arm with a sigh, feeling nearly boneless as Tulip purred. 

“You’re staying the night?” Tulip ventured after a moment of contented silence. 

Tosca smiled as she looked up into his gorgeous face. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no baby yet, so I thought the least I could do was leave off on a smut chapter. Huge thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this chapter, and if you haven't already, seriously check out her fanfics. Shakarian, Primarch Victus, and a host of lovely turian OCs.


	10. On Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - first part of chapter contains sexual content.

As his mind gradually cleared, rays of light piercing through the mists of sleep and dream to anchor itself in the waking world, he became aware that he was not alone. There was a warmth next to him, pressed against his side firm and soft.

 _Tosca_.

Opening his eyes, he gazed down at his bed partner. Her hair was flung about her head and over the pillows, reminding him of creeping lichen. It glowed in chestnut bands where the artificial morning light touched it and he found himself gently running a finger along the strands closest to him. He had no comparison for the texture; no plant or manufactured material he’d ever known was similar. He liked it though, how the individual hairs slipped between his hands like water. Strong, yet with a feather-light structure.

“Hey,” a groggy voice whispered. “Having fun with my hair?” Even clouded with sleep there was a humorous lilt to the question and Tenzen paused petting Tosca long enough to look into her steadily clearing eyes, which presently had a more green hue to them than brown.

“It’s different,” he answered, forcing himself to remove his hand.

“Hopefully different in a good way,” she yawned, voice becoming steadier. “Like how your plates are different to me.”

“You like my plates?” he asked, amused. Most of the other races saw turian plating as off-putting, like a permanent armor.

“I do,” she affirmed, a smile on her lips. “Your tattoos look really pretty on them.”

Tenzen chuffed. The geometric patterns that decorated his body didn’t have a meaning, other than aesthetics. He’d gotten his left arm plates tattooed after completing boot camp, his own personal rite of passage. After that, he’d done his other arm, then his cowl and keel, followed by his legs until he was adorned in bold, yellow designs from foot to fringe.

“I’m glad you approve,” he purred, pulling her close. It wasn’t often he spent the night after sex. After the deed was done, he was usually content to part ways. He could count on two hands the number of times there’d been repeat performances. Attachments were messy from what he’d seen, easier to keep emotions entirely separate from the act.

Tosca pressed a gentle kiss to his chin, hands coming to run along his mandibles, thumbs tracing his colony markings. This, being with her, _wanting_ to be with her was new territory. So far, he really liked it. 

As Tosca’s hands moved to trace the bold stripe on his chin, a memory came back to him from the evening before. “You called me Tulip last night,” he advised her. “Several times. Is that your secret name for me?” He vaguely recalled her telling him that a Tulip was a flower from Earth, back when he’d been furious to have a human assigned to him as a nurse.

Tosca’s finger paused, pressed to his chin. “If it were a name I had for you, would you be mad?”

He considered it, and decided there were worse names he’d been called. There wasn’t any malice in it and if it made her happy to refer to him as a flower, then who was he to ruin her fun?

“You can call me Tulip if you want,” he said, playfully nipping at her finger. “It’s strangely arousing when you do it during sex.”

Tosca let out a bright burst of laughter, pressing a kiss against his mouth this time. “When the sex is that incredible, it’s hard not to just shout things,” she murmured.

Tenzen felt his male pride swell, along with something else. “I could offer an encore,” he told her, vocals dropping in pitch at the notion of being seated inside her silken, ripe heat once more.

“Hmm, I dunno, Tulip. Sure you’re up for it?” she teased, tongue darting out to swiftly lick his chin.

Tenzen felt his groin plates loosen as a low, possessive growl rolled from his throat only to be silenced as Tosca captured his mouth with hers, sucking roughly on his tongue. Her small body molded against his, a leg thrown over his hip spur and her wet center pressed against him.

Tenzen moaned, a hand tangling in her hair as he cradled her head, rocking against her in a prelude of things to come. Tosca’s own clever fingers trailed down his sensitive waist before tracing his parted seam. Tentatively, a finger circled his opening before dipping inside his sheath and rubbing the head of his emerging cock. 

“More,” he panted. “That feels incredible.”

He’d always enjoyed sheath play, but in his desperation to fuck her the night before he hadn’t bothered bringing it up. Now, as Tosca pushed her finger deeper inside to press down on his concealed testicles he groaned in pleasure, eyes rolling back in his head and grip on her hip and head becoming tighter.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasped as she explored, finger scrapping along his emerging shaft. Forming two of her fingers into a ‘V’ shape she stroked against him, pinching slightly. It was too much, he forgot how to breathe as he fully erected into her waiting hand.

Clumsily, he tried to kick the sheet off of them only for his shins to scream in protest. Tosca must have noticed him wince because she tore her hand away. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he gasped, more frustrated than hurt. “Just my shins. I’m fine, please, don’t stop.”

“Do you need your shin ointment?”

His vocals whined in exasperation. “No, I’m fine. I just moved too fast.”

He sighed in relief when her hand returned to his length, stroking from base to tip as he thrust lightly against it. Not wanting to be selfish as so many of the human males had seemed in the porn he’d watched, he ran a knuckle up her slit, circling the nub at the top and making Tosca stutter in her ministrations.

Even blunted as they were, he didn’t want to risk pressing a finger inside and cutting her with his talons. Judging from her reactions though, he was doing something right. He pressed against her, rubbing and tracing her opening until her folds were sodden and the thought of pushing himself inside the warm, wet paradise between her legs was overwhelming.

She seemed to read his mind, pulling herself against him and stroking against his ribbed underside, breath hitching and eyes screwed shut. “Shit,” she gasped as Tenzen grasped her rear and positioned himself at her entrance.

She gripped him as he filled her, a tight, heavy embrace that made his head spin. The feeling was so different to a turian; supple, smooth instead of ridged, and wet. _So we_ t! The scent of her arousal was a thick, cloying perfume that smothered his higher brain functions and awoke something primitive. A demand that he pump into her slow, hard, and deep.

His pace was languid as he pulled out nearly to the tip before pushing back in, hips completely flush. This type of sex was new for him. In the place of crashing plates and scraping claws was the soft, damp sound of flesh and hide pressing together. There was no frantic rush or competition to be dominant. There was time for a steady rhythm, to truly appreciate the other’s body in an equal give and take of pleasure.

Tosca kneaded the soft patch of hide behind his fringe, adding another layer of sensation to their coupling. He rolled his hips in an upward motion, causing her nub to rub against the hide at his seam. Instead of satisfied snarls and subvocal growls, Tosca made high, airy sounds of approval, blunt nails digging into his neck and side as she ground herself against him in search of release. Her movements became sporadic as her walls constricted around him and his own orgasm nearly took him by surprise as he thrust into her hard twice more.

There was a telltale, tingling sensation at the base of his cock. An urge to press as deeply into her as physically possible, to cum inside her and knot, locking them together. He’d experienced the feeling before, when he was younger and each new sexual encounter felt like it was the best thing ever. He’d resisted it then, as he did now, pulling out as his cock twitched inside Tosca’s slick channel, filling her with his seed.

Humans didn’t knot. In fact, he was reasonably sure no other species outside his own did. The impulse was driven not just by phenomenal intercourse - though that was certainly part of it - but by feelings of desire and a willingness sire offspring with the person you were engaged with. He’d never entertained these emotions before and wasn’t ready to address them now. Not yet, anyway. But if things with Tosca continued to progress… Well, he’d heard knotting felt incredible.

Tosca’s contented sigh drew him back to the present as euphoria flooded his senses. “You feel amazing,” he couldn’t resist telling her as he nuzzled her brow.

“Not as good as you,” she huffed, cheeks flushed a light pink. “Though, I think I need to use some lotion before we go again.”

He rumbled to her in question, following her gaze down to where he was still partially seated inside her. The olive colored skin of her thighs was an angry looking red, chafed raw from his plates.

Tenzen trilled an apology and pulled from her as he receded back behind his pelvic plates. “Spirits, I didn’t realize - I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Tosca assured him, caressing his left mandible and cheek. “A little medicated lotion and I’ll be fine. I’m sure we can figure out some more creative positions as your shins heal. Really, it looks worse than it is.”

Tenzen gave her a skeptical once over, feeling slightly ill that despite his caution he’d still managed to hurt her. “If you say so,” he reluctantly agreed.

“I do.” She said. “Besides, I noticed that giant bathtub last night, and if we can get you comfortable, I think sitting in the warm water might feel really good. In more ways than one,” she added, voice lowering to a smolder.

If she said she was fine, he’d believe her. His subharmonics thrummed in interest as thoughts of what they could do in the sunken tub swam through his mind.

“Hand me my cane?” he asked.

Tosca grinned in response.

**********

Two days later, when she’d walked through the door of her apartment only three hours before her next shift, skin warm and a perpetual smile glued to her face, the very picture of ‘well fucked,’ both Alma and Trella made high pitched whooping noises.

Tosca shook her head as she set her things down on the kitchen counter. “Yeah, yeah,” she acknowledged.

“So, good huh?” Alma asked from her place on the couch next to Reba.

“ _Very_ good,” Tosca confirmed as she grabbed an apple. She and Tulip hadn’t left the apartment, too consumed by the way their bodies fit together to consider doing anything else. Tulip had even produced a tube of chirality neutral lubricant from somewhere and the sex had been nothing short of amazing. She hoped the apartment walls were soundproof or else the neighbors definitely got an earful over the last several days.

“I still don’t see the appeal,” Reba declared. “But, if he makes you happy - which clearly he does - then congratulations on humping a turian.”

“More likely he humped her,” Eeju pointed out helpfully. “Turians a bit aggressive sexually, like to be dominant - So I’ve read,” he added when everyone turned to stare at him.

“Enough about turian dick,” Alma decreed, clapping her hands together. “Me and Reba want to host a murder mystery dinner and since Tosca has a boyfriend now, we have enough people to do it!”

“What’s a murder mystery dinner?” Trella asked, pulling her eyes away from her omni-tool.

“It’s super fun!” Reba said enthusiastically, quickly typing on her own tool.

Tosca felt her wrist vibrate and pulled up the document Reba had sent her. **“High School Reunion Murder”** was printed boldly at the top of the page, followed by a list of six characters, each with one of their names printed next to it. Tosca was apparently _Mysterious Foreign Exchange Student._

“Basically,” Reba was saying to Trella and Eeju, “you’re assigned a character with a backstory and personality. You have to pretend you’re that character during the course of dinner. Before we start eating, everyone pulls a sealed envelope off the table. One person’s envelope will tell them that they’re the murderer. There’s special instructions on your character sheet for what to do if that happens. The rest of us try to guess who the killer is while the murderer offs people one by one.”

“A theatrical game that glorifies killing others?” Eeju sounded horrified.

“It’s just a game,” Alma told him. “And it’s more about asking questions and solving puzzles then the actual crime.”

“That sounds fun!” Trella said, eyes bright as she read her script. “But what is a _Goth Girl_?”

“Goth is a type of fashion and lifestyle choice,” Reba explained. “Think lots of black clothing and an interest in the macabre.”

“Oh! Can we trade?” Eeju asked Trella. “Mine is _President of Chess Club_ , but own black cape and never have occasion to wear it.”

Both Alma and Tosca giggled, though Trella readily agreed to switch roles with her boyfriend. Looking down the sheet Tosca saw Tulip’s name next to _Football Team Captain_ and had to grin. Somehow the roll seemed perfect for him, though there would undoubtedly be a lot of explaining to do.

“When are we doing this?” Tosca asked.

“In five days,” Reba proclaimed. “We’ll have a potluck dinner, everyone can bring a dish. I’ll even get some dextro beer for Tenzen.”

“He’ll appreciate that,” Tosca said, suddenly nervous to have all her friends meet him. Hopefully they liked him - she really wanted to go line dancing as a group once Tulip’s shins were healed enough.

As conversation turned to various costumes, Tosca ducked into her room to change for work. She wondered what constituted a mysterious foreign exchange student’s wardrobe. Probably a bunch of random items thrown together. She could borrow something from Trella, Eeju - maybe even Tulip - and put together a delightfully mismatched outfit.

Her omni-tool vibrated and Tosca grinned at a message from Tulip. 

**Tenzen Vallokius**

**[Serpent Nebula, Widow System]**

**1024**

**Hope you have a good day at work. I’ll be thinking about you. - T**

A girly sigh escaped her just as another message appeared. 

**Tenzen Vallokius**

**[Serpent Nebula, Widow System]**

**1025**

**I learned another song I thought you might like. I was too… distracted to show you earlier but here.  
**

An audio file was attached to the message and Tosca eagerly clicked it. Tulip’s smokey voice filled her room as he sang along to a song she knew well:

_Hey little girl, is your daddy home?_

_Did he go away and leave you all alone? Mhmm_

_I got a bad desire_

_Oh oh oh, I'm on fire._

Reba didn’t have to get it, Tosca decided as she stood smiling in her room all alone while Tulip’s recording played. Tulip was a turian, and also the sexiest, sweetest man she’d ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still waiting on baby, so here's another update! Huge thanks to S0me_Writer once again for beta reading. =)
> 
> Also, the song Tenzen sings is “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen.


	11. Murder Mystery Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louza – A type of dextro poultry. The turian version of chicken. 
> 
> Remugit Table – A table made from the wood of a rare tree found only on Palaven. These tables amplify the subharmonics of turians when their hands are laid flat upon its surface and are commonly used in meetings and delegations were transparency and honesty are in question.

“I still don’t entirely understand this game,” Tulip admitted as they walked through the entryway of Tosca’s apartment building. “Or why the collar of my shirt needs to be popped up.” He toyed with the material that peaked under his crest of horns as though it were deeply unnerving.

Tosca hadn’t really known how to dress a turian up as a ‘jock’ and Tulip’s wardrobe had been fairly limited. She’d settled for the tightest tunic he owned, popping up the collar over the rim of his cowl and some black, sock-like fringe covering that was reminiscent of a beanie. Earlier, he had expressed how ridiculous he felt and she’d taken that as a costume win. 

“Just stick to your script and you’ll be fine,” Tosca assured him. “Your character is supposed to be obsessed with sports and not particularly bright.”

Tulip made a stuttering whir with his subvocals. “I’m stupid in this game? I’ll have you know I scored above average on all my Hierarchy aptitude tests!”

Tosca held in a sigh. It seemed acting didn’t come naturally to turians and Tulip had already informed her that he wouldn’t lie in the event he was directly asked if he was the murderer because direct deceit was beneath him. All her attempts to convince him to separate his character from himself had proven to be in vain, and she could only hope he wasn’t assigned as the killer or else this game would be over before it started.

“Just… just read your script,” she advised as she opened the door to her apartment. 

It smelled wonderful inside, like pastries, meat, and family gatherings. Alma and Reba had been cooking since the night before and the aroma was positively mouth-watering. Tosca glanced at Tulip. His nasal plates shifted up and down and his mouth was slightly parted as he scented the food rich air. Despite spending so much time with him, his face could still be incredibly difficult to read, and Tosca wasn’t sure if he was intrigued or disgusted by the smell.

“Good, you’re here,” Reba said, sweeping into the room, giant glasses on her face and an ascot around her neck, the picture of _Student Body President._ She ushered them to the large table they’d set up in the living room. “Tenzen, I ordered something for you called _louza._ I was told it was the turian version of chicken.”

Tulip made a rumbling noise Tosca had come to associate with gratitude, though he didn’t verbally respond. “Thanks,” Tosca said for him, not wanting her friends to think he was rude.

Cuing in on her answer, Tulip dipped his head in appreciation before thanking Reba with his primary voice. Reba waved him off as she set about herding everyone else to the table.

Once all guests were sat and their plates were served, Alma tapped her wine glass with a spoon. “Time to start the game!” she announced. “Everyone grab an envelope to see if you’re the killer.”

Tosca rolled up the sleeves on the tunic she’d borrowed from Tulip. She’d tried to wrap it into the vague shape of a dress but the result looked nothing like the extranet tutorial she’d watched. Her outfit was exotic at least.

Opening her envelope, she breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t the murderer. She could only hope Tulip wasn’t either.

“Okay, now that the killer knows their role, lets go around and introduce ourselves,” Alma folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward in her seat. “I’ll start. My name is Shyla Poindexter and I was what some might call a ‘nerd,’ being super into comic books and computers. Joke’s on you now though, I’m wildly rich and successful and own a well respected graphic design company.”

Tosca cleared her throat, trying her best for some type of Russian accent, though she wasn’t sure what to call the weird amalgamation of cultures that fell from her mouth. “I’m Mysteria Farlander. No one’s sure what country I’m originally from but I hung around the library, smoking cigarettes in high school, and currently work as a bartender in a high-end restaurant with mafia ties.” She tossed her head, hair brushing against Tulip’s arm as she did so. It elicited a sound from his throat that she only heard during more intimate moments - like this morning when he’d pinned her to the mattress, a large hand holding her wrists above her head while his blue tongue flicked tortuously against a nipple.

“Your turn, Tenzen,” she informed, quickly concealing her blush behind her wine glass, hoping no one else heard or understood turian subvocals.

“What? Oh, right.” Tulip looked down at his script. “I’m Chad Goalman, former football star and heartthrob. I tore my ACL in college and had to drop sports, though I earned a degree in art history and am now a radio DJ.” Tulip looked up from his datapad, a deep scowl etched into his plates. “Is this serious? The radio is not a career and art history is a pointless study!”

A chorus of “shush!” followed his outburst and Tulip sank back into his chair, arms crossed over his keel and brow plates lowered in irritation.

“It’s just a game, Tulip,” Tosca reminded him, giving his leg a gentle squeeze under the table. “Play along, everyone knows you’d never be a radio DJ.”

“Not entertaining enough to be a DJ,” Eeju opined. “Too cynical.”

Tulip scoffed. “I refuse to listen to someone who’s wearing a bra on their head!”

Tosca wondered what Trella had been thinking letting Eeju leave her room with a black lace bra over his horns. She supposed Eeju had been more concerned with wearing as much black as possible rather than social decorum. As it was, the cape and oversized, black shirt draped over his slender frame made him look like a mourning widow from some era before the industrial revolution.

“You’re probably the murderer anyway,” Tulip went on. “Salarians are all too skilled at espionage.”

Eeju sputtered. “Am not STG agent, I’m a receptionist! _You’re_ the former Blackwatch member. _You’re_ probably the killer!”

“Goddess, Eeju, I already told you this is all pretend. It doesn’t matter if Tenzen is former Blackwatch. The killer could be Tosca - or even me!” Trella shot her boyfriend an exasperated look over the thick frames of her oversized glasses.

“I’m not a _former_ Blackwatch agent,” Tulip pointed out hotly. “Until I receive a new assignment I’m _still_ officially Blackwatch.”

“Nobody cares, and we’re getting off topic,” Alma cut in before Eeju could respond. “Trella, read your script.”

Things moved along slowly, but predictably after that. Tulip managed to read his lines without further incident, though Tosca could tell he didn’t approve of the fact that his character sounded like a dumb meat-head.

Nearly two hours passed and Tosca, Reba, and Alma had all been killed before Trella finally deduced that Eeju was the murderer.

“I knew it!” Tulip crowed, vindication ringing in his vocals louder than Sunday morning church bells. Climbing from his seat, he leaned heavily against the table and jabbed a taloned finger at Eeju. “It’s always the salarian!”

“Should have killed you first.” Eeju took a prim sip of his asari tea and brushed a bra strap away from his face. “Had plenty of opportunity to solve crime, notably couldn’t do it.”

“The alleged ‘clues’ in this game were confusing, but I always knew it was you!” Tulip lightly pounded the table with a fist. “I said it was you from the beginning!”

Alma sighed, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Tosca smirked, glancing up at Tulip who’d sat back down again, an air of smugness about him. Overall, not the worst way to spend an evening.

**********

Tenzen fidgeted in the desk chair, the long jacket of his uniform bunching at the back. He’d always taken great pride in his formal Blackwatch attire; the dark colors matching his own plates and making him feel like a wraith, a black blade for the Primarch himself, striking out from perpetual shadow at those who dared to threaten the Hierarchy. Yet, when he’d donned his dress blacks this morning they felt too heavy on his body. The insignias along his cowl didn’t gleam so much as dimly glint in the artificial light. He felt his shoulders compact under the weight of finality this vidcall signaled.

Resigned to the fact he’d never wear this uniform again, Tenzen gave himself one final look-over in the reflection of the desk terminal before initiating the call.

The screen immediately came to life as General Oraka, Captain Victus, and two other military officials he didn’t recognize appeared in front of him, all seated around a circular _Remugit Table,_ hands flat upon its surface.

Victus was a surprise. The famed Hierarchy Captain was beloved by his troops but it was common knowledge that his tactics and blatant disregard for rules and regulations had garnered him few friends in the upper echelons of the military. 

Tenzen clamped down on his subvocals. Most were too quiet to travel through vid connection, but he didn’t want to risk his superiors discovering his trepidation.

“Major Vallokius,” General Oraka intoned with a solemn nod, setting the tone for the meeting. “We have reviewed your medical charts and prognosis from Huerta and had an independent evaluation done by our own specialist. Given the nature and extent of your injuries, you are being reassigned from Blackwatch.”

The news had been expected and Tenzen had been mentally preparing for weeks in anticipation. Though, somehow, actually hearing it from the mouth of his superior made it real. He felt like he’d been punched in the waist by a krogan as it suddenly became hard to breathe.

“Yes, sir,” he managed through the blinding pain.

“Your service record is impressive,” one of the other men seated with the General and Captain Victus noted, making a show of glancing at a datapad. “General Oraka has recommended you for advancement within the turian fleet. His recommendation was echoed by your Commanding Officer and finding no reason to doubt your credentials, you are to report for training and evaluation at Cipritine as soon as you’re cleared.”

“You will report to Captain Victus while in Cipritine,” General Oraka said, looking to the younger man. “I’m nearing the end of my tenure with the fleet, we need dedicated, confident new blood to step in as the old guard step down.”

Victus’ face was inscrutable. Yet, something about the lines of his body led Tenzen to believe that military politics and reports on potential advancements weren’t something the other man was relishing taking over.

“You’ve trained extensively on warships,” the man holding the datapad was saying. “We believe you’d make an excellent Starship Captain, should you pass evaluations.”

“Report to Cipritine as soon as you’re cleared,” General Oraka repeated.

Captain Victus nodded to him, seemingly bored with the entire conversation.

“Yes, sir. I look forward to serving the Hierarchy in whatever my new capacity will be,” Tenzen forced himself to say, hand unconsciously tugging at the fabric of his jacket.

With a polite bow from his superiors, the vidsreen went opaque once more and Tenzen was left over-dressed and alone in General Oraka’s lavish apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but next one is longer to compensate. Updates will likely be irregular for a time as I adjust to having an infant around. Huge thank-you to S0me_Writer for beta reading this chapter. =)


	12. The Art Show

It was nearly three weeks since his vidcall with Oraka, and Tenzen considered it no small victory that he was almost able to walk around without his cane. His gait was stilted, but he felt more like himself than he had in months. He and Tosca had even started to practice line dancing together, though he needed to take frequent breaks to rest.

Tosca had been the best distraction. Her encouragement, gentle touches - Spirits, her sheer presence had prevented him from becoming depressed over his reassignment. A shadow crept into her eyes whenever they discussed him leaving for Palaven, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant and she hadn’t volunteered any hints as to what might be bothering her. So, for the time being, Tenzen left it alone.

He had wanted to do something special for her. Show her how much he appreciated her companionship. Usually, she was the planner for their activities and outings, but when Amadeus had sent a message inquiring about their attendance to the gallery showing that week, Tenzen had seized the opportunity to give Tosca a night out.

“What kind of art show is this?” Tosca asked him as they sat cuddled up in the back of the skycar. “Am I dressed alright? Amadeus knows I’m coming?”

“The invite is for both of us,” Tenzen answered, nuzzling her brow. “And you look beautiful.” He pulled back to admire his date. Tosca always looked gorgeous as far as he was concerned, whether she was in her nurses scrubs or completely naked. Tonight though, she looked especially stunning in a royal blue lace dress. The fabric hugged her lithe frame, accentuating her slim waist, chest, and ass.

He wasn’t sure when, precisely, it had happened, but he’d come to really appreciate her breasts. Not in a sexual way necessarily, but for the fact that only _he_ was allowed to touch them and doing so turned Tosca into a writhing, moaning mess. Breasts were powerful things if you knew what you were doing.

“You’re looking extremely handsome yourself,” Tosca said, gaze heated as her eyes trailed over his outfit.

Tenzen felt the hide of his neck heat up and he ducked his head, embarrassed by the praise. “Thanks. I’m renting it, didn’t own anything the krogan would consider _‘appropriate’_ gallery attire.” He flicked his mandibles out in derision as he remembered Amadeus’ snotty comment about _‘no neon allowed’_ in their last communication.

He hadn’t wanted to take his cane with him this evening, preferring to demonstrate to everyone that he was nearly whole once more. But, Tosca had insisted, and when it came to his physical recovery he’d learned not to bother arguing with her.

As their skycar pulled up in front of the large, white marble and stone gallery located in the heart of the Silver Sun Strip, Tenzen tried not to gawk at the number of well-appointed guests lined up at the entrance. They were all here to see Amadeus’ finger paintings? He shook his head minutely as he exited the vehicle, holding the door open for Tosca.

“Wow, look at all these people!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t realize Amadeus was famous!”

“He’s not famous,” Tenzen countered, even though he found himself questioning the validity of that statement as giant, electronic displays flashed images of the krogan and his art along with praise for the works. “He can’t be famous,” he repeated more quietly.

As they stood in line waiting for admittance, Tenzen felt the subvocal murmur of disapproval floating in the air. Surreptitiously glancing around, he noted that they were the only turian-human couple and more than a few turians were shooting him pointed looks. The vocals were discrete, but enough for him to know that the others were questioning why he’d chosen a _human_ for a... partner.

There was no point in denying his association with Tosca. He enjoyed scenting her, nuzzling and rubbing his brow against her hairline where the smell lingered for hours, if not days. Anyone with a nose stronger than an asari would know that they were intimate.

Even now, he realized how close he was standing to her, his body language advertising possession and familiarity. Humans might communicate in a language of touch but turians did not. Even the simple act of allowing his hand to brush against hers spoke of an intimacy beyond mere friendship.

For the first time since becoming romantically involved, Tenzen regretted being so blatant with his feelings. Animosity toward humans for the Relay 314 incident was still prevalent among his race. Perhaps he should take measures to keep the exact nature of their relationship more discrete? He took a small step away from Tosca, listening intently to the subharmonic conversations taking place below her hearing range.

“Do you have the invitation?” she asked him, deaf to the discourse all around them.

“What? Oh, yes, here.” He absentmindedly forwarded her the invitation from his tool.

“Hey. Is something wrong?”

The gentle hand on his arm and concerned look in her eyes had him purring reassuringly before he could stop himself. The air cracked with vocals:

_“In public? Some people have no sha -”_

_“Filthy human!”_

_“-Like a furry asari, why would you ever -”_

“I’m alright,” Tenzen lied, grateful Tosca couldn’t hear the insults being lobbed in their direction. “Just a bit sore.” He made a point to lean against his cane before giving her a lame flick of his mandible.

Tosca looked like she wanted to say something, but then they were at the entrance and an asari with a huge smile plastered to her lavender face was checking their invitations and welcoming them inside.

Tenzen had attended some lavish events in his service to the Hierarchy; banquets at the Spire on Palaven, Military Balls in prestigious museums on Taetrus and in Cipritine. This gallery made everywhere else he’d ever been look shabby in comparison, and his lower mandible nearly hit the floor as he was barraged by the sheer opulence.

Crystal and diamond chandeliers, and white walls dressed in colossal paintings with gilded frames surrounded them and stretched high to the vaulted ceiling. A crowd of spectators craned their necks to take it all in, oblivious to the impeccably dressed servers, carrying silver platters of hors d'oeuvres, that wove in and around them. Everywhere Tenzen turned was light and color that dazzled the eyes and confused the senses.

“This is incredible,” Tosca whispered from where she stood pressed close to his side. “I’ve never… just… wow…”

Tenzen was at a complete loss for words. Amadeus had created all this? The annoying krogan with a penchant for shitty day-time television?

“Tenzen, is that you?”

Amadeus’ deep voice pulled him from his toper in the middle of the main room. Snapping to attention, the sounds and faces came rushing back in stark clarity. Taking Tosca by the elbow, he led her toward Amadeus.

“Tenzen, Tosca, it is you!” Amadeus exclaimed, clearly delighted.

The old krogan was wearing a series of technicolor robes that made him look like a lumbering rainbow, a glass of wine in each hand. _But neon was out of the question?_ Tenzen thought irritably.

“Amadeus, this is absolutely amazing!” Tosca told him, going in for a hug. Not having the same reservations to touch as turians, Amadeus leaned into the tiny human, a toothy grin on his face.

“Thank you, my dear! I admit, I’m rather pleased with how everything turned out. Sha-Sha even helped me with the caterers since Klash has terrible taste in food.”

“Sha-Sha?” Tosca tilted her head. “Is that a friend of yours?”

“Ah, Sha'ira, the consort. We’ve been friends for over a century now. Wonderful woman, I designed her chambers.Though that incorrigible lush is noticeably not here tonight.” Amadeus snorted. “Something about avoiding a client who _‘wants her to be more than she can be’_ to them. Not the first time someone’s been smitten with her, but why she couldn’t just ignore them and come is beyond me.” Amadeus swirled the contents of both wine glasses as he spoke.

“The consort’s the lush?” Tenzen found himself inquiring as he stared at the alcohol.

“Oh, Tenzen, don’t be so naive!” Amadeus held up the glass in his right hand. “This one is obviously throwing wine.” A devious grin split the krogan’s face. “Now, please explore! Feast your eyes and stomachs. I’m experimenting with the different ways light can affect color and mood, I do hope you enjoy.”

“Hey, Amadeus, where do you want this thing?” Klash called out as he appeared from around the corner carrying a burnished copper statue of… Tenzen wasn’t sure what.

“ _Ancestors_ _!_ Over by the globe installation! I told you that twice already!” Amadeus glared at his boyfriend in poorly concealed disgust.

Klash let out a loud, put upon sigh before walking off muttering something about “you always get like this on gallery night.”

“Ugh! That’s the orb exhibit, I said near the globes!” Amadeus cried as he stared at Klash over the top of Tosca’s head. “If you’ll pardon me, there’s an emergency that needs tending to,” Amadeus said by way of excusing himself. His colorful robes fluttered behind him as he all but flew across the room in the direction Klash had headed.

“Emergency,” Tenzen huffed. “Please.”

“I think it’s sweet you two became friends,” Tosca told him as they turned and headed deeper into the gallery.

“We’re not friends -” Tenzen began before thinking it over. “Well, we’re not close friends,” he amended.

Tosca bit the inside of her cheek, laughter dancing in her hazel irises as she looked at him. His mandibles relaxed into a tender smile as he ignored the colorful paintings and statues in favor of staring into her face.

Eventually though, he felt the air tremor and subvocal speculation about his dreamy expression reached his aural canal.

_“Spirits that human is tiny! Do you think he has a size kink?”_

_“He’s a bit on the short side himself…”_

Didn’t these people have better things to do than stare at him? Holding in a sigh and striving to keep his plates schooled into a neutral expression, Tenzen pointed to the installation on the wall in front of them as a distraction.

What did it matter if he was here with a human? Centuries ago, turians had found the asari repulsive and now it was common for asari to receive Hierarchy citizenship! He could only imagine the same would eventually be true for humans. Though, ‘eventually’ could still be a long time coming when you weren’t one of the longer-lived species.

“This is amazing,” Tosca said as she walked to the other side of the wall. “Head on, it’s a rainbow, but from this angle it’s just clear balls of light!”

 **Perspective Changes Everything** , was the name of the piece. Tenzen felt his mandibles pinch into his maxilla as he considered the meaning.

“Vallokius! I didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice exclaimed.

“General,” Tenzen replied, automatically falling into parade rest and trying to keep the shock out of his vocals. He dipped his head politely. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“You’re not on duty, Vallokius. At ease.” Oraka took a moment to appraise his outfit and the cane held securely in Tenzen’s left hand. “I must say, you’re looking well.”

“Thank you,” Tenzen answered. He privately wondered if his normal wardrobe was hideous. Everyone seemed to think this navy blue and pinstripe suit looked superb and had commented on it when, as a rule, nobody said anything about his clothes. He’d have to ask Tosca later if she thought he ought to go shopping.

Speaking of Tosca…

“Hello,” he heard her greet the General, before glancing up at him.

Clearing his throat, Tenzen stepped aside to present Tosca to Oraka. “General, this is Tosca Sharif.” His what? Date? Partner? Something else? He hadn’t needed to introduce her to anyone before and found himself stumbling over the exact nature of their relationship.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Oraka rumbled with a sincere bow. “I’m Vall- Tenzen’s commanding officer, Septimus Oraka, General of the turian fleet.”

Tosca looked like she wanted to shake his hand but thought better of it, instead returning his bow. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said. “The turian fleet? Do you spend much time in open space then?”

Tenzen released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as pleased subharmonics rippled off Oraka in response to the inquiry. He needed someone to like Tosca - the fact that it was his benefactor and someone he admired meant more than he could properly articulate.

He stood smiling as Tosca and Oraka had a pleasant exchange about the military before Tosca excused herself to get something to eat. Tenzen’s gaze followed her retreating form, lingering on the smooth expanse of her exposed back. Her hair was tied on top of her head, leaving her shoulder blades and muscles on display. He repressed a very unsophisticated growl.

“A human, hmm, Vallokius?” Oraka remarked.

Tenzen forced himself to look his superior in the eye. “Yes,” he admitted for the first time out loud. “She… is a wonderful person.”

“She seems quite lovely,” Oraka agreed. “Humans look so similar to asari. Both are beautifully built races. Their skin looks so impossibly soft,” he noted mostly to himself as he watched Tosca speak with one of the human waiters.

“Sir?” Tenzen hedged, not sure if he truly wanted to pursue his current train of thought. Oraka turned his amber eyes on him and Tenzen had no choice but to ask. “Will… being with a human adversely affect my chances at a promotion?”

Oraka’s gaze was steady as he digested the question, flashes of yellow and gold lighting up in the older man’s irises from the light display off to the right.

“The Hierarchy isn’t overly concerned with your personal life so long as it doesn’t affect your work or performance,” he replied at last. “Humans are new to the galactic stage, and a young race even at that. Their relative youth and enthusiasm for Council involvement is seen by some as arrogant and dangerously ambitious. But,” the General cocked his head to the side, holding up a finger to accentuate his point. “I’m not alone in thinking that humanity - and the Alliance in general - have potential. Despite their appearance, they’re cunning adversaries in battle and unlike the krogan, actually _want_ the other races to like them. Humans have the ability to be a great asset to galaxy and to our own race as well.”

Tenzen was left slightly stunned. Oraka had fought humans on Shanxi and told more than a few people about their savagery. There was no point in holding a grudge against a now proven ally, he supposed.

“Still,” Oraka went on, “given resentment over the recent order to make reparations to the Alliance for the Relay 314 incident, I wouldn’t necessarily advertise that you were romantically involved with a human. Casual sex is one thing, bonding is another.”

Bonding… the thought had never occurred to him consciously. He’d assumed he’d never want anyone and be married to his career. It was far too early to use that term for his feelings toward Tosca. Wasn't it?

As though sensing his conflicted thoughts, Oraka mercifully changed the subject. “It’s hard to believe a _krogan_ is responsible for this,” he said, waving toward the room. “They’re all typically so focused on violence.”

“Not all krogan are mindless mercs.” Tenzen replied, taking in the gorgeous works. “Amadeus is exceedingly talented.”

“Indeed, I am.” As though summoned, a hulking rainbow appeared next to Tenzen, still holding two full wine glasses. “Not bad for a ‘ _brute_ ,’ hmm?” The question was directed at Oraka though the General clearly didn’t recognize Amadeus if his confused subvocals were anything to go off.

“Amadeus, this is -”

“I know damn well who he is, and you _know_ I know,” the krogan retorted without looking at Tenzen. “Young man,” he said to Oraka straightening his posture, “the last time we met you were rude, racist, and an overall bore.”

“Young man?” Oraka repeated, plates avalanching down his face into an expression of irritation. “I am far from young! And I have absolutely no idea who you are.”

“Everyone’s young compared to me,” Amadeus countered. “And I suppose you don’t remember me since all krogan look the same to you, right?”

“Perhaps we should go elsewhere,” Tenzen tried as the situation began to escalate.

 _“He was my roommate in Huerta,”_ he advised Oraka with his subharmonics. _“And the artist behind these installations.”_

Understanding flashed in the General’s eyes but Amadeus wasn’t done. “I demand you apologize for your atrocious attitude and current attire. That hat makes you look like you’re wearing a condom on your head and racism is unbecoming for someone of your alleged rank.”

“ _Alleged_?” Oraka boomed, the fuse behind his eyes which had been slowly burning since the conversation began finally exploding. “I am a General with the turian fleet, _krogan_ , and I’m not the one being rude - you are, though I suppose that shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone!”

“You might be a General but no matter how many insignias they pin to your cowl you’ll always be an asshole!” With a practiced flick of his wrist Amadeus flung wine in Oraka’s face. Tenzen looked on in mute horror as the krogan stuck his nose in the air and sashayed off, the shocked stares of guests and patrons following his every step.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Oraka said in a deathly hollow voice, “I think I’ll be taking my leave. This has been a most disappointing evening.”

Tenzen could only nod dumbly as the great General Oraka headed for the door, pulling his cap off as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, huge thanks to S0me_Writer for reviewing this chapter and for encouraging me in my OC obsession. =)


	13. Sweet Emotions

**“Are you mad at me for last night?”**

Tenzen stared at the omni message as a low growl sounded in his throat. 

**“No, I’m thrilled you threw wine in my superior’s face, humiliating both him and** **_me_** **publicly.”**

Tenzen shook his head as he returned to his task of lint rolling the pillows. He loved Tosca’s hair for how soft and luminous it was, but _Spirits!_ She shed everywhere! He’d even found a few strands coiled around the edges of his plates- one rather long hair stuck between the seam of his groin plates. 

She had told him it was natural when he’d come to her concerned about the quantity of hair she was losing, but he was still coming to terms with this particular human quirk. Then again, she thought his regurgitating gizzard stones into the kitchen sink was _‘gross’_ and had requested he do it into the garbage receptacle. He supposed inter-species relationships were a long series of compromises. 

Tenzen’s wrist pinged. **“Are you in trouble for that?”**

 **“No, just mortified.”** He sent back. **“And to be clear, I stood up for you and told him not all krogan were ignorant brutes. Then you had to go and do that!”**

**“I admit, I may have overreacted when he claimed not to remember me.”**

**“He’ll definitely remember you now!”**

There was no response and Tenzen huffed before walking to the bathroom and pulling on thick rubber gloves. Tosca’s hair had a way of clogging the shower drain. It was positively repulsive and he’d gagged the first time he’d pulled out a mat of the stuff. Not that he’d tell her that, of course. If this was a normal human thing, he didn’t want her to think he was too squeamish to handle being with her. 

Had this been his own apartment, he might not have cared so much about the loose hairs. But the last thing he wanted was for General Oraka to stop by and find human hair clogging his drain or strewn about his bedroom. He’d been fortunate the other night that the General’s ship was only on the Citadel for a few hours. Luckily the man hadn’t thought to check on his residence, instead returning to the dreadnought in shame. 

Tenzen scowled. Damn Amadeus for being such an oversensitive diva! 

**“I’m sorry for my behavior. I’ll send the General a formal apology.”**

Tenzen chirped in surprise. He hadn’t expected the krogan to admit any wrongdoing. Before he could respond another message came through. 

**“I’m sending you something too. Though I believe Tosca will enjoy it more than you.”**

The message was followed by a series of indecipherable emojis; one appeared to be an asari face winking? What was that supposed to mean? Tenzen simply typed back a _‘thank you’_ before kneeling on the floor to unclog the drain. Tosca worked late today and wouldn’t be over until far into the night cycle. He felt somewhat guilty for her always coming to his place, but none of her furniture was designed for a turian, and he still found it uncomfortable to stand or sit in certain positions. 

He grunted in disgust as he pulled a clump of wet hair out of the drain. It looked like some type of drowned vermin. He quickly tossed it in the garbage can, biting back on his gag reflex. 

Shedding aside, he’d miss Tosca when he left for Palaven. Her musical laughter, the way her smile reflected in her eyes, her warm body pressed against him in the cool of the night. It was nice to fall asleep holding someone in your arms. Someone you… cared for deeply. 

Would she wait for him to finish his training? Did he _want_ her to? It might be harder to advance his career if he was romantically involved with a human. Let alone bonded to one. A part of him whispered that the process had already begun. He frowned, yanking himself to his feet with the help of the vanity. 

Turians described love as an irresistible pull or tug, being drawn to the other person as though they possessed their own gravitational pull. It was a craving, a need to be near, and in the case of committed couples, one would never stray far from the orbit of their partner’s influence. In theory anyway. That certainly hadn’t been the case for his mothers. 

Tenzen scoffed as he pulled off the gloves and washed his hands. He had started to feel something new toward Tosca over the last few weeks. Subtle at first, but he couldn’t deny the draw. He’d pulled back recently, unsettled by the strength of the emotions. Last night had been a stark reminder of what the majority of his race thought about turian-human relationships. Though he prided himself to an extent on not giving a shit what others thought, it potentially might affect his career, and maybe Tosca’s too. Was she alright with that? That… loving him might impact her life in unfortunate ways? She hadn’t said anything about it, but he hadn’t mentioned it either. 

Humans described love as a falling, burning sensation. As Tenzen went to sit on the couch he couldn’t help but think that regardless of the outcome, his feelings for Tosca were going to singe. The question was, would he allow it to happen? The answer seemed clear, even though it terrified him on a certain level. He wasn’t ready to say anything to her - not yet. If she went first, perhaps that would make things easier?

He whined in discomfort. He wasn’t good at this. He had no reference and so far as he could tell, love was a burning, burning thing.

**********

Tosca’s hand paused over the incoming call. She’d been messaging with her sisters fairly consistently, but hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks. And she’d been purposely avoiding a topic of interest. A certain large, plated topic of interest. 

They’d hear about Tulip eventually, she decided, as she accepted the call and Fatima’s face filled the halo above her wrist. 

“Tosca! Hey, it’s been too long since we chatted,” her eldest sister greeted. 

“Hey Fatima, how’s life back on Earth?”

“Oh, you know, same ol’ thing. The kids are all in school now, Mario’s still working with Allied Construction on that skyscraper project and I’m substitute teaching.” Fatima waved a hand as though this was all so banal. “But enough about that, you’re on the Citadel! There’s always something exciting happening there with so many different species. What’s new with you?”

“Oh, work takes up most of my time,” Tosca deflected. “I line dance at that club I was telling you about whenever I can, or just… hang out.” 

“Hang out? With your roommates?” 

Tosca hesitated. Now was as good a time as ever. “I’m… kinda seeing someone,” she admitted.

“What? Who? When? What’s his name?” Fatima leaned closer to the screen, face greedy for more information. 

“His name’s Tenzen,” Tosca said softly. 

“Tenzen? Is that Chinese?”

“No…” Tosca took a breath. “It’s turian, actually.”

Fatima was quiet for a beat before she burst out laughing. “That’s a good one,” she snickered. “But seriously, are you seeing someone?”

“Yeah. Tenzen Vallokius. He’s in the turian military, we met while he was in Huerta recovering from an injury.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Fatima’s eyes went wide as saucers. “You’re… actually dating a turian? One of those giant Godzilla-looking space eagles?”

“He’s not a monster or a bird,” Tosca bit out. “He’s a man. A caring, intelligent, thoughtful one.”

“I, sorry, it’s just…” Fatima trailed off, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m happy for you, if you like him.”

Tosca felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She’d noticed some of the human guests at the art show the previous night giving her judgmental stares. She could endure it, but still, it was nice to have support. In decades to come she was sure human-turian couples would be commonplace. Being a trailblazer wasn’t always fun though, and she felt the looks - both real and imaginary - of those who hadn’t put the past behind them.

“Have you told mom and dad yet?” 

Immediately all the weight came crashing back down onto her. “No, and _please_ don’t say anything to them, you know how worked up dad can get about the First Contact War.” Tosca cringed as she imagined Abraham Sharif’s reaction: His face slowly turning a deep purple, his laugh lines becoming harsh canyons as he snarled out his disdain for the Hierarchy and the _‘pointless slaughter’_ of innocent humans on Shanxi. He hadn’t been involved in the conflict, but his hatred toward turians ran deep and he expressed this ire whenever galactic politics came up. 

“Of course I won’t say anything to dad!” Fatima looked at her as though the entire idea were ludicrous. “But he’ll find out at some point if you’re serious about this guy. _Are_ you serious about him?”

“I think so…” If Tulip weren’t leaving for Palaven for an unspecified length of time, the answer would have been a resounding _‘yes.'_ She wanted to be with him, thought about him all the time when they weren’t together - she was reasonably sure she loved him. 

“You _think_ so? Why aren’t you sure? Is he not serious about you?” In another life, Fatima would have made a formidable attorney or interrogator. She preferred the company of young children though, singing songs and making art projects. Proclivities that masked what a thorough cross examination she was capable of inflicting on people.

“I don’t know what he wants,” Tosca admitted with a sigh. It was good to finally tell someone, even if it was her sister and not Tulip. “He’s going to Palaven for an intense training regime before being promoted. He’ll probably be gone a couple months. I’m not sure if he wants to maintain a long distance relationship.” _I’m not sure if he feels the same way about me,_ she mentally added. 

“Huh,” Fatima replied. “Well, don’t waste your time on someone who’s not sure about what he wants if you do. He’s damn lucky to have you and I hope he realizes that.”

Tosca gave a humorless huff. “Sure.”

“I mean it Tos! God, you always short-sell yourself! You’ve got a body most other women would kill for, a lucrative career, you’re funny, thoughtful, kind, talented -”

“Okay!” Tosca threw her hands up in defeat. Fatima always saw the best in her.

“You’re a 10! Don’t forget it!” her sister demanded. 

“I won’t” Tosca answered, with a genuine laugh this time. “Now, what’s Najat up to?”

Fatima allowed her to change the subject to discuss their middle sister, though Tosca knew she’d be getting more questions about her relationship with Tulip. She’d hopefully have more answers next time she and Fatima spoke. 

**********

Tosca was exhausted when she reached Tulip’s apartment. She entered the door code he’d given her, dropped her clothes at the door, and stalked naked toward the bathroom. It was well into the night cycle, and while turians needed less sleep than humans, it was a safe bet that Tulip was in bed. 

Pausing at the threshold of the bedroom, she heard the rumbling snores that confirmed her suspicions. Striving to be as quiet as possible, Tosca completed her nighttime routine before tip-toeing to the bed and slinking under the covers. 

Her feet and legs were cold and she immediately sought out Tulip’s body to warm herself. He grunted in his sleep when she pressed her feet against his legs, but didn’t awaken. 

Tosca snuggled against him, closing her eyes with a content sigh and waiting for the sweet oblivion of sleep to claim her too.

“You’re such a diva,” Tulip muttered. 

“What?” Tosca asked as she pulled back to look at him. His eyes were still shut and his breathing hadn’t changed to indicate he was awake. “ _I’m_ a diva?”

“Dumb krogan,” Tulip responded in the same leaden voice. “Dumb, diva krogan and his… _wine_.”

Tosca felt herself grinning into the darkened room. She’d suspected Tulip talked in his sleep, but being a heavy sleeper herself hadn’t been totally sure if she was just dreaming. She stifled a giggle that Tulip was dreaming about Amadeus. 

“You like him,” she whispered, settling back against his side. 

Tulip grumbled something unintelligible before falling silent once more. An idea came to her as she watched him sleep, his features muted in the pitch of artificial night. Would it be wrong though? It wasn’t like he’d ever know…

“Tulip?” she hedged. He made a snuffling noise. 

“Tulip, do you love me?” A part of her felt deeply pathetic for having to ask while he was sleeping. Then again, she didn’t have the courage to say anything when he was awake. She held her breath but the only sound was his rolling, subvocal snores. 

She sighed. It had been a stupid thing to do anyway. As she closed her eyes again and consciousness slowly began to seep away, a hushed whisper brushed against her cheek. 

“With all my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks as always to S0me_Writer for beta reading. =)


	14. The Hard Truth

Tosca was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Only a week after Amadeus’ art show and Tulip was steady enough to walk without a cane - and dance. They’d been practicing and he was better than most human patrons of Nebula Night Club.

Even though Reba had been hesitant, everyone agreed to go out as a group. Eeju had been wanting to come dancing for a while anyway and it seemed that the stars had aligned to grant her friends the night off. 

Tulip didn’t own any western wear, but was dressed in a casual outfit that accentuated his narrow waist and long legs. Tosca caught herself staring at him and by his purring subvocals and dipped head he’d noticed the extra attention, too. 

“Nobody get too drunk,” Reba cautioned as their group approached the entrance. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t have a repeat of our first visit,” Alma reassured with a snort. “We’re here tonight to flaunt our mad skills, not pass out on the sidewalk.”

Reba caught Tosca’s eye, her worried expression lingering. Tosca tried not to frown. Reba was concerned that not everyone would appreciate having Tulip in a predominantly human club. Sure, more alien races were frequenting the place - there was even a trio of krogan last time they’d gone - but turians had remained notably absent. 

The usual human bouncer - Andre, maybe? - was standing by the entrance looking slightly bored. His eyes went wide when he caught sight of Tulip. He immediately crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders. Tosca grabbed her boyfriend by his gloved hand, meeting the bouncer’s eye and _daring_ him to say something. His gaze shot down to where their fingers were unevenly intertwined, expression morphing from guarded to stunned. 

“Good crowd tonight, Andre?” Reba asked as she and Alma breezed passed him. 

Andre glanced at his coworker then back at Tulip before relaxing his posture. “The regulars and a fair amount of new faces,” he answered, the casual lilt of his voice sounding a bit strained. Nodding at Eeju he added, “a few other salarians are here, actually.”

Trella hummed a hello and the group walked into the club. Tulip noticeably tensed at Tosca’s side and she glanced up at him. He was subtly scanning the crowd in the dimly lit room. Every now and then the milky light from the bar reflected in his irises, making them glow an opalescent white that reminded Tosca of nocturnal predators from Earth. Turians had far superior night vision to most other races - save maybe batarians - and Tulip could probably pick out distinct facial features on the other patrons while Tosca could only see vague shapes of noses and mouths. 

“Reba, see if the DJ will play the Watermelon Crawl,” Trella implored. “That’s the dance Eeju and I are best at.”

Tosca squeezed Tulip’s hand in an effort to shake off the unease that had settled over her. They were here to have fun. Tonight would be fun. Tulip looked down at her, a mandible flared in a loose smile. Hopefully he’d relax once they started to dance.

As the music started and people took to the floor, Tosca felt her worries dissolving with each step as she shimmied to the beat. Next to her, Tulip was keeping time perfectly, his tall, lithe frame towering above the rest of the patrons. He was the only turian, but there were asari, salarians, and even a group of drunk volus tripping over themselves with giggling hiccups. Certainly a more diverse crowd then Tosca’s first visit. 

When the announcer called out that a slow song was next, Tosca looked for Tulip. But, before she could take his hand, a human man approached her. He had black hair slicked back against his head and was wearing a white T-shirt that looked cheap, but was probably expensive. 

“Pretty thing like you should have a partner,” he advised, offering her his hand. 

“Thanks, but I’m here with someone,” Tosca told him as Tulip walked up from behind. She wasn’t sure how much of the conversation he’d heard, but he wrapped an arm around her waist, staring down at her would-be suitor. 

The human man's jaw dropped before warping into an ugly frown. “You’re here with _that?_ ” 

Tosca glared at him. “Find someone else to harass,” she replied, pulling Tulip after her and taking up position as the song started to play. 

Her jilted admirer stood dumbly in the middle of the floor as a round of laughter suddenly erupted from the table near the far wall. He whipped around and stormed back to what were clearly his friends. Tosca ignored them, matching Tulip’s steps and giving him a reassuring smile. 

An hour later everyone was still enjoying themselves and there hadn’t been any other incidents. Tulip knew all the songs and dutifully accompanied Tosca for all the couples’ dances. If the human patrons gave them a wider breadth on the dance floor, Tulip didn’t notice or else mention it. 

There were looks cast their direction - not all of them friendly - but it seemed that nobody else was going to say anything. Their group had taken over one of the larger booths and were enjoying drinks and conversation when Tulip headed to the bar. 

“Hey!” An abrasive voice called over the noise and discussion Tosca had been having with Alma. “Hey!” It called again when Tosca ignored him. 

“What?” she finally asked, scowling at the same human man from before. He was flanked by two friends this time and didn’t appear entirely steady on his feet. 

“Are you _with_ that skull face?” The man jerked his head in Tulip’s direction. “Like, _with_ him?”

Tosca felt as though an iron rod had been shot down the length of her spine. “Go away,” she replied darkly, turning away from him. 

“That’s pretty fucked up, ya know? All you plate-chasers are fucked up.” He took a bold step forward, his hands opening and closing at his sides as if he contemplated curling them into fists. “How can you do _anything_ with those monsters after what they pulled on Shanxi?”

“Hey, fuck off!” Alma demanded, angling her body to shield Tosca. “No one cares what you think!”

“Calm your tits!” White tee’s friend told her with a smirk. “We’re just having a civil conversation here. No need to get excited.”

Alma bristled, nostrils flaring and hands clenching into fists on the tabletop. “ _Excuse_ you?”

“Are you fucking that thing?” White tee inquired, leaning closer to Tosca, a hand flat on the table. His lips had pulled back to show his teeth and despite lacking the blade-like points of a turian, his snarl was far more intimidating. 

“Go away!” Tosca screamed. 

Her outburst had the desired effect of making him retreat, but he didn’t leave, turning to his friends as though her reaction were proof of her guilt. Out of the corner of her eye, Tosca saw Trella’s hands flare blue in silent warning, but then a sound like caged thunder washed over the table.

“The lady told you to leave,” Tulip growled, subvocals louder than she’d ever heard them. 

White tee and his friends turned to face off with the tall, furious turian looming behind them. 

“Get bent!” One of White tee’s friends yelled. “Your kind isn’t welcome here!”

“ _Lady?_ ” White tee sneered. He glanced back at Tosca, mouth curled up in disgust. “You’re a turian-fucking whore! And you-” he whirled back to Tulip, jutting out his chin defiantly. He was about to jab a finger against Tulip’s keel when his wrist was seized in a three-fingered fist. Somehow, the following, sickening snap seemed louder than the music. 

Everything blurred after that. White tee screamed, Alma threw her drink - including the glass - at the nearest man who was moving to intervene. Eeju yelled something about racism, and Tosca felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck raise as blue biotic flames licked up Trella’s arms. 

Then there was a deafening crack as Tulip punched White tee in the jaw, and in a fluid motion shoved him to the ground before grabbing his friend by the throat and hurling him into the neighboring booth. His vocals called to mind the savage songs of wolves heard around paleolithic fires, and Tosca flinched involuntarily at the sound. 

“No fighting! Everyone out!” 

The overhead lights burst on, temporarily blinding her as Andre, flanked by three other large human men, grabbed White tee - though his shirt was noticeably now speckled with red - and his friends off the floor. 

“Sorry, Reba, but I need you and your friends to go,” Tosca heard one of the bouncers say before they all piled out of their booth. 

Despite the constant warmth of the ward, Tosca felt cold as they stepped back outside. She caught a glimpse of White tee and his friends being shoved into a skycab by a bouncer. The vehicle took off in the direction of Huerta with its racist cargo floundering inside. 

“You can come back, but maybe wait a few days?” Andre advised before his eyes flicked over to Tulip who was standing next to Trella and still making the same menacing subharmonics. 

The unspoken _‘maybe come without_ **_him_ ** _next time_ ’ echoed loudly in the air even after Andre had gone back inside. 

“Well, I need a drink,” Alma declared, grabbing a pale looking Reba by the hand. “And I’m done dealing with assholes for the night. Shots and shitty movies at our place?”

“Sounds good to me,” Trella nodded before casting a worried glance at Tosca. 

Tulip stalked over to her, vocals falling beyond her hearing range. “I think I’ll head back to my own apartment,” he stated, voice unnervingly calm. 

Trella opened her mouth as though to protest, but then slowly closed it, giving Tulip a nod instead. “You coming?” she asked Tosca. 

“I think I’ll go with Tulip,” Tosca replied, hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt. 

The ride back to Tulip’s place was thick with quiet. They sat apart from each other, not touching. Tosca wanted to take Tulip’s hand, reassure herself as much as him that it was alright, but she sensed he didn’t want to be touched at the moment. She was beginning to regret her decision to go with him when he finally sighed as they reached his apartment building and entered the elevator. 

“I don’t think we should go back there,” he told her. “You can go, if you want, but it’s probably better I don’t come with you.” 

“Andre said we’re welcome back,” Tosca all but whispered as they stepped out onto Tulip’s floor. “It wasn’t your fault-”

“It doesn’t matter!” Tulip snapped as he opened the door and they walked inside. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he repeated softly, turning to face her. “I’m the ‘monster’ as far as they’re concerned. Me simply _existing_ in that space is asking for trouble.” His mandibles pinched to his face. “I never should have gone,” he muttered. 

“That’s not fair,” Tosca said, tears pricking the edge of her vision. “You shouldn’t feel like you can’t go out dancing just because of your species.”

“I’m fine with it,” he shrugged, walking toward the couch to pull off his shoes. “We just need to keep a low profile. Not go out anywhere together where we look like a couple.”

“But,” Tosca began as she approached him. “We _are_ a couple. I don’t care what other people think. I’m not ashamed to be seen with you.”

“ _Spirits_ , I’m not ashamed of you either,” Tulip replied, looking suddenly tired. “It’d just be easier if we didn’t do things together in public. For both of us.”

“I don’t _care_ if it’s difficult, I’d rather deal with asinine comments than pretend I’m not with you.” She looked up at him, suddenly worried. “Wouldn't you?”

His vocals buzzed and he stared down at the carpeted floor. When he still didn’t respond, Tosca sucked in a ragged breath, willing herself not to cry. “When you leave for Palaven,” she started, “are you going to tell anyone about me? Or am I just a dirty secret?”

His head snapped up and his mandibles flexed, as he appeared to ponder his words. “I’ve been advised that it would be better for me, advancement-wise, not to mention our… relationship.” He at least had the decency to look ashamed as he spoke but it did little to alleviate the falling, shattering sensation in Tosca’s chest as she stared at him. 

“Oh.” It was all she could say. Despite what he might feel for her, his duty came first. She shouldn’t have been surprised, given how turian society functioned. She’d just hoped… She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d been hoping for anymore. 

“Well, don’t worry about having to hide me from anyone. I don’t want to make your life difficult. Since it’s too much for you, it’s probably better we just stop this now.” She turned to the door as hot tears streamed down her face. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Tulip grabbed her wrist as she walked out into the hallway. “I don’t want to end things.”

“Don’t you?” Tosca whirled on him, frustration and hurt tinting her voice. “You don’t want people to see you with me, you’re not planning on telling anyone about me when you leave, I might as well not exist beyond the bedroom! Is that all I am to you? A good lay?” Tulip made a series of vocals she recognized from when he’d first started having to share a room with Amadeus. “And I don’t appreciate those subvocals!” she spat, even though she didn’t know exactly what they meant. 

The subharmonics immediately halted as Tulip released her wrist. “I’m _trying_ Tosca, Spirits know I’m trying!” He raked a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want our relationship to affect our careers or daily lives negatively, but I don’t want to end things. I care about you, you’re not just some casual affair!”

“Then what am I to you?”

“I don’t-”

“If you can’t even acknowledge me as your girlfriend, can’t tell me you love me, then there’s no point to this,” she gestured to the space between them. “You can find yourself someone on Palaven - someone you’re not afraid to be seen publicly with - and have your happily ever after. I’ll be alright. Eventually, I’ll be alright.”

The elevator opened as an older turian woman juggling a bag of groceries stepped out and Tosca quickly ducked inside, jabbing the console to close the doors and take her to the first floor. In the cold recycled air of the lift, she allowed herself to sob. 

********** 

Tenzen turned the water temperature up as high as it would go. If there was a ‘boil’ setting, that was what he wanted. The shower scalded plate and stung his hide, a constant stream of silver arrows melting away the scents of alcohol, blood, and shame. 

His shins ached, but it was a dull, numbed sensation. One he could ignore, or at least pretend to. He leaned his head forward, closing his eyes and pressing his brow plates into the slick, cool tile of the shower as steam enveloped him like a cocoon. 

He was a coward. A worthless, pitiful coward. 

When the water began to turn from hot to warm to tepid, he finally forced himself to turn the dial off and step wet and gleaming onto the bathmat. His obsidian plates glowed under the artificial lights of the bathroom and the bright yellow of his colony markings and tattoos shone like burnished gold. 

But in the mirror, all that stared back at him was the same hideous, craven wretch. His mandibles pinched against his face in disgust and he walked out into the bedroom without bothering to towel off. 

He’d be leaving the Citadel in a matter of weeks now that he could walk unassisted. They would set him up in a decent hotel in Cipritine and he’d start evaluations and training as a star-ship Captain. Work would consume his every waking hour and fill his dreams like it had before. He’d been proud of his career in Blackwatch, and the prospect of advancing higher up the tiers was likewise something to take pride in. 

Tenzen snorted as he strode over to the large footlocker which contained his casual clothing. _Pride_. Hubris was more like it. And didn’t he exude enough of that already? He didn’t need some prestigious title to ruin what good he had left in this life, he’d done that on his own. 

_No_. He wasn’t going to think about her. Wasn’t going to dwell on how her eyes had turned wet like river stones, how her face had fallen like an avalanche, how she’d turned away from him and– 

He growled in frustration and no small amount of self-loathing as he snatched up a shirt and his black shatha leather jacket. He’d been weak, he shouldn’t have let her in. Lo– deep affection like that only brought pain. And he’d hurt her too, in the end. That was the worst part. 

Dressing, he marched back into the bathroom, seizing his talon file off the vanity. He forced himself to stare at his reflection as he filed his fringe into vicious spikes. So long as they didn’t affect his ability to wear a helmet the Hierarchy wouldn’t care. The sound of metal on chitin and sight of black flecks filling the sink basin were soothing. He’d remove all the curves, the softness, become a fortress once more. 

Look achieved, he took a moment to appraise himself; jet black with a piked fringe. The epitome of dangerous, the look of a loner who needed no one. Who _deserved_ no one. 

Satisfied but still feeling wretched, he went to the elevator and rode it down to the final floor before picking his way through the gaudy skycars of the parking garage until he reached his destination. She was truly a thing of beauty. Chrome that glinted like liquid mercury, an engine that roared like an enraged wild beast of lore and deep cobalt paint the same hue as his blood. 

He’d once told his friends as they sat around, cleaning their weapons after a brutal shootout with Blood Pack mercs that the only thing he loved in this universe was his skycycle. They’d laughed, thinking he was joking, none understanding that despite the humorous lilt to his vocals that he was dead serious. 

Tosca had told him he could ride again. She’d been excited when he’d asked if she wanted to go with him sometime and had been enthusiastically looking for a helmet. He growled as once again his treacherous thoughts turned to her. She didn’t want him anymore, he needed to stop thinking about her. 

His cycle roared to life as he tore out of the parking garage, nearly hitting an asari in an expensive private corvette. He ignored the rude gesture she made at him as he merged into traffic. 

Blazing through the Citadel skyways, a stream of neon light in his wake, he slowly felt that he was over her. That he would get over her. _Could_ get over Tosca. Yet, the keen that lay caged in his throat, clawing to break free and be heard over the whir of vehicles, shrieked _liar_. 

Love was the worst pain he’d ever known. It burned, it burned, it burned. 

He was headed to her apartment before he was aware of what he was doing. He had no plan, no excuse for his behavior. Just himself. He prayed to spirits he didn’t believe in that his tattered, turian heart would be enough, and that he’d be able to call her his once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, I hate angst. Resolution next chapter ;p
> 
> Huge thanks as always to S0me_Writer for beta reading. And seriously, check out her stuff if you haven't yet.


	15. Walk the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - sexual content after chapter break
> 
> Sorden mos – A term for lowly, craven cowards of the worst variety.
> 
> Amicae – the turian version of a girlfriend or exclusive significant other.
> 
> Lacerta – A creature that is reptilian in nature and used similarly to a horse. Before the industrial age, turians rode these creatures as a means of faster transport, and on agrarian colony worlds lacerta are still often used as mounts.

“Come on, _please_ let me in?” Tenzen lifted his fist to pound on the door again when it abruptly slid open, revealing Alma. Haloed in the artificial light of pre-dawn, her arms were crossed and dark eyes burning with a deep, consuming outrage. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Alma coldly stated. 

Tenzen forced himself not to slump. “I can understand that,” he conceded. “Can you just tell her that I’m sorry?”

“Sorry? That doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it!” Alma glared at him. “ _You’re_ the one who came to her wanting a romantic relationship and what, people make a few nasty comments and you run for the hills? You really are pathetic.”

He wanted to argue, point out it was more than the opinions of strangers he was concerned with, but what was the use? She was right, after all, he was pathetic.

“I know,” he replied, lowering his eyes to the floor before facing Alma once more. “I’m a coward. I don’t…” he sighed. He’d rather be having this conversation with Tosca, not her roommate. “Tosca is... the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The thought of waking up alone in a cold bed, of never seeing that special smile, the one that reached her eyes, left him feeling empty. “I don’t deserve-”

The sound of footsteps behind Alma halted his confession and he peered over her head. Tosca’s arms were wrapped around her chest, her hair looked mussed and her eyes were rimmed with red. The appearance of grief transcended species it seemed. He let out a low keen, talons flexing at his side as he resisted the urge to barge past Alma and comfort his love. 

“It’s okay,” Tosca told her friend in a raw voice. “He can come in.”

Alma glanced at him before looking back at Tosca and moving aside. 

“Hey.” Tosca said, once Alma had disappeared into her room. 

“Hey.” He returned, suddenly at a loss for words. “Tosca, I... I’m so _so_ sorry.”

“I know,” she replied, eyes flicking to his newly-piked fringe. 

“I’m not ashamed of you." His hand twitched at his side, he wanted to reach for her but resisted. "I want to be with you. It’s just… hard for me. I’ve never had someone like you- never _wanted_ anyone before you... I’m bad at this.” He sighed, wishing he could better express what he was feeling. Tosca was still staring at him though, so he soldiered onward. 

“Tosca, I... I love you.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, sticky and sweet like the flesh of some exotic fruit. “I love you,” he repeated, finding a surprising sense of strength in saying the phrase he’d avoided for so long. “I’m sorry for being such a _sorden mos_ before. I don’t care what people might think about me for loving a human.” This time, he took the risk and reached for her hand, keening in relief when she squeezed it in return. 

“What about your promotion?” Tosca asked him, her eyes still glistening.

“Some people might whisper about my love life, but it won’t _prevent_ my advancement.” His vocals echoed his sincerity as he continued, “I’m not going to go around Palaven proclaiming I’m with a human, but I’m not going to deny our relationship.” He gently placed his other hand on her waist, mostly to ground himself but spirits, he wanted to draw her close. Mercifully, Tosca stepped into him and Tenzen released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he admitted. “Even without the criticism, I’m still trying to figure out how to show you what you mean to me. I let the comments feed my fear and confusion, but please, never think I don’t care about you.” 

He implored her with his subvocals, a humming song of devotion and love professing his feelings more eloquently than mere words ever could. “I’m proud to call you mine,” he told her softly. “You’re smart, beautiful, caring-” 

Tosca yanked on his cowl, pulling his face down to hers and pressing a demanding kiss to his mouth. Tenzen pulled her closer, tongue greedily sweeping into her mouth as they moaned in unison. 

She pulled away first, sucking in a deep breath. Slowly, she pressed her brow to his, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you too, Tenzen,” she whispered. “I don’t care what people may think. If we need to be a bit more discreet in public to avoid conflict and safeguard your career, I’m okay with that. But, I’m willing to fight for this. Are you?”

“I am,” he answered confidently. “I’m sorry I hesitated before.” He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a data pad and handing it to her. "I wanted to show you something.”

In truth, he’d received the document a few days earlier and then promptly forgotten about it, stuffing the pad into his jacket as he’d left the turian embassy. He’d only remembered its contents when he’d parked his skycycle outside Tosca’s complex and felt something foreign in his pocket. 

“What is this?” Tosca asked, brows furrowing as she read over the scrawling lines of Palaveni text. 

“It’s what I send to the Hierarchy as part of my transfer. It asks for a relative or significant other to contact should I get KIA. I… I listed you.” 

Tosca’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? But all your superiors will see you’re with a human.”

“I don’t care. And neither should they. My Captain can know I have a human _amicae_.”

“ _Amicae_ ,” Tosca tested the word. “That’s the turian word for an exclusive significant other?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised she knew the meaning. After all, he’d researched human dating customs, it only made sense that she'd have done the same. “Yeah,” he nodded. “That is, if you still want to be mine?”

Her smile reflected in the swirling greens and amber of her irises, the special, quiet happiness that always made him feel warm. “I’ll always want you, Tulip.”

**********

He woke with strange pains in his joints; a creak in his neck, an ache in his lower back and the persistent, dull throb in his shins. Opening his eyes, it took him a moment to remember where he was. The holos of friends and family and the horse doll stuffed behind his fringe instantly told him he was in his _amicae’s_ room.

She was noticeably absent, however. She’d left for work, he recalled groggily. Broken images from earlier that morning burst to life. She’d kissed him goodbye and whispered an _‘I love you,’_ before quietly leaving. 

Stretching out his stiff limbs, he climbed out of the uncomfortable bed and headed for the door. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t regret staying and holding Tosca in his arms until she’d needed to leave. After decades of clenching his heart into a fist, to finally open it and embrace his feelings, to fully let someone in, was simultaneously overwhelming and relieving. 

The ride back to his apartment was spent with a dreamy expression concealed behind the visor of his helmet. It lingered right up until he reached his door and saw the large package out front. His mandibles clicked against maxilla as he checked the tag which listed him as the recipient. 

Placing the giant container on the couch, he sliced through the packing tape with a talon, pulling out a data pad resting on top of a bag. _“Tenzen, I had this especially made for you. I took a guess at your measurements, but I’m sure I‘m right. Hopefully you and Tosca enjoy. Your Friend, Amadeus. P.S. I’ve heard that humans are fond of taking pictures in this type of ensemble. Something to consider?”_

Tenzen rumbled to himself in confusion as he opened the bag and pulled out some type of pants. He didn’t recognize the material, though it seemed durable. Next were leather boots which were clearly modeled after human fashion, though made for turian feet. This was followed by a belt with an incredibly gaudy silver buckle emblazoned with a _lacerta_ on it and a human cowboy hat. There was no shirt. 

_Ridiculous krogan_ , Tenzen thought with a fond mandible flick. He took Amadeus’ bizarre gift and set it in his footlocker. Tosca was supposed to come over after her shift for a late lunch. Maybe they could watch another Western vid too. She’d left a couple at his place. 

He busied himself tidying the apartment and looking through mail until Tosca messaged she was on her way over. An idea came to him. Warily, he approached his footlocker and the new outfit. Should he? 

Tenzen stripped out of his own clothes before donning his new attire. The hat had a string with a toggle on it and while it was loose on his head, it stayed in place. Everything fit perfectly and Tenzen wondered if Amadeus had surreptitiously rifled through his clothes to see what size he wore. Checking the time, he took up a position near the door, hoping he didn’t look too absurd. 

He didn’t have to wait long, as the door slide open minutes later and Tosca stepped inside. “Hey, Tulip, I brought…” her mouth hung open and eyes went wide as she took him in. 

“Howdy little lady,” he greeted, tipping his hat. 

“Where did you get the outfit from?” she asked, walking over with the biggest grin he’d ever seen painted on her face. Her hands landed on his hip spurs, tugging him closer as she practically purred. 

This was already proving to be a fantastic decision and Tenzen added a growl to his subvocals as he kissed the top of her head. “A gift from Amadeus,” he told her. “Do you like it?”

Tosca responded by pushing against his keel, herding him back toward the bedroom with a predatory smirk. “You look pretty hot in those clothes,” she informed him. “But, I think they’d look even better on the floor.”

His vocals dropped in pitch, drumming out a symphony of arousal, desire, and devotion, as he let his much smaller partner shove him onto the bed. 

He pulled the hat off and tossed it aside, watching as Tosca crawled up his body, fingers unbuckling his belt and pulling on the fastenings of his pants. 

She didn’t try to pull them all the way down, however, and as soon as his already parted seam was exposed, she dropped her head, delving her tongue inside his sheath and licking the head of his cock. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasped, talons fisting into the bed sheets. 

Tosca glanced up at him, hazel eyes drowning in the expanding black pools of her pupils. 

He whined, thrusting his hips upward in silent request. Tosca’s smile was an upside down scythe as she returned her attention to his emerging length, licking a hot trail along the underside of his shaft before taking him into her mouth. 

She sucked hard as she swallowed him, head bobbing furiously until Tenzen’s vision began to turn white. He forced himself to sit up and push her back, nearly tripping on his pants.

Tosca chuckled darkly before moving to sit on the edge of the mattress. She watched as he pulled off his pants and boots, kicking them aside before kneeling in front of her. 

She was still dressed in her nurse’s scrubs and he quickly pulled them off, taking her underwear too before pressing his face to the juncture between her legs. The scent of her arousal flooded his senses and he breathed hotly against her bare cunt. Tosca pulled off her shirt and bra, her thighs falling open as she leaned back on her elbows to watch him. 

He plunged his tongue into her already sodden entrance, curling it against the rough patch that had Tosca gasping out his name and a litany of curses. He set a relentless pace, fucking her with his tongue, determined to pull an orgasm from her with just his mouth. 

Tosca’s breathing came in ragged pants before he felt her inner walls flutter and constrict. Without giving her time to catch her breath, he clamored over her, his erection throbbing painfully as he positioned himself. He pressed inside with one fluid motion, causing Tosca’s head to fall back against the bed with a cry of pleasure. 

His vocals took on a primitive song of ardor and lust as the smell of their combined arousal filled his nostrils. Pulling nearly out of her, he snapped his hips back, watching as her breasts bounced with the action. Tosca ground herself against him as he seized her legs and held her close, awash in sensation. She was a silken vice around him and perfect, so fucking perfect! 

He didn’t realize he was talking until Tosca started answering him. 

“Do I feel good?” His talons carded through her thick hair. “Do you like my cock inside you?”

“You feel so good, Tenzen!” she panted, blunt nails digging into the sensitive patch of hide behind his fringe. “I love your dick!”

“ _Spirits_ , you’re so tight! Take it! Take it!” What, exactly, she was supposed to take he had no idea, but his higher brain functions weren’t in control anymore. 

Tosca screamed, body spasming against him as she climaxed. He was close too, he could feel the tell-tale tingling sensation at the base of his cock that preceded his release. He made to pull out, but as he stared down at Tosca writhing beneath him, face contorted in beautiful rapture, the desire to stay became overwhelming. 

“Tos- Tosca?” he panted. “Can- I want to stay. Can I knot with you?”

She looked drunk as she stared back at him. As a xeno-nurse she knew what knotting was, of course she did. Though, he wasn’t sure she understood the cultural implications, or what specifically they meant for _him_. 

“Knot with me Tulip! Cum in me, Tulip!” 

He slowed his movements, determined to savor the experience. He willed his eyes to stay open, watching pleasure and affection dance across Tosca’s face. The tingling sensation became stronger and he pressed into her as he rode out his release, filling her with his seed. 

It felt like he’d been electrocuted as sparks raced from his groin and through his veins, consuming him in liquid heat. The wind felt like it’d been knocked out of him and he gasped for breath. Tosca’s walls squeezed his engorged knot and he quivered, nearly collapsing on top of her. 

His vision swam and he saw explosions of color behind closed eyelids as his awareness narrowed to only his gorgeous _amicae_ below him. She was soft and strong, and her hands were possessively clutching his face, and _Spirits!_

“I love you,” he gasped, pressing his brow to hers as he wrapped his arms around her back. His keel pressed against her supple flesh but if it hurt her, she didn’t show it, instead pulling him impossibly close. “ _Spirits_ , I love you, Tosca.” His subharmonics echoed the sentiment in tones and pitches he’d never made before.

He felt himself keen, overwhelmed by it all. But she was kissing his face, and he was held and safe and loved and _oh_. As they lay tangled in the bed sheets, connected in the most intimate way possible, he’d never been more at peace. 

“I love you so much, Tenzen,” Tosca whispered, hot breath fanning out against his neck. 

Gazing down at her, face flushed, eyes gleaming, hair spread out over the mattress he understood what it was to be consumed by another person. “You have my heart,” he breathed. “I’m yours.”

Commission from [@savbakk](https://savbakk.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this chapter.


	16. The Heart Grows Fonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amicae – the turian version of a girlfriend or exclusive significant other.
> 
> Culus – Colloquial word for “asshole.”

Palaven loomed large and imposing in the port observation window. Vast swaths of green and pale white marbled the surface; a planet of silver flowers and armored trees, the birthplace of the turian race. His ancestral home.

Tenzen needed to return to his quarters and don his armor. He sighed, turning away from the view. He’d be planet side for nearly two galactic months. Two months focused on training and work. Two months without the love of his life by his side.

They could still message each other and talk, but it was already hard falling asleep without her in his arms. She’d assured him that time would pass faster than he thought. He’d be back on the Citadel before he knew it and they could start looking for an apartment together.

He walked mechanically to his room and began snapping his armor into place. He needed to focus. Willing Tosca to the back of his mind for the time being, he went over the instructions he’d received from Hierarchy Command until the ship docked.

He was met at the platform by an aide who introduced himself as Private Fallo Kernan, Captain Victus’ personal assistant. He was young - or at least younger than Tenzen - but spoke with the authority of someone three times his age. Following Fallo, Tenzen was ushered into a skycar with tinted windows. As they flew deeper into the capital, the monolithic outer wall of the city falling behind them as they sped through the arches of the two shorter defensive walls, Fallo began to go over logistics. 

Tenzen would be set up in a hotel near the Spire, then convene with the three other candidates at the Office of Military Affairs for a briefing with Captain Victus. This would be followed by a short one-on-one discussion. Training would start immediately. Fallo explained that this was a great honor and reiterated that fact more than a few times. Tenzen tuned him out as the gleaming skyscrapers and buildings of Cipritine filled his vision. For all its advanced technology and architecture, the Citadel was nothing compared to the turian capital. 

Turian construction was often compared to fortresses. Many of the taller buildings possessed turrets which could support anti-aircraft guns in case of a siege. The windows in the taller, older skyscrapers were extra thick and made of a deep, emerald green glass to protect against Palaven’s unrelenting solar rays. The facades lacked the embellishment or statues found in asari or even volus architecture, but there was a certain beauty in the utilitarian function of the city; a place of industry and progress but also a military stronghold nearly impervious to attack. 

Nowhere was this more evident than the Spire; the Primarch’s home office and seat of the Hierarchy government. Rising hundreds of feet into the air like a monolithic steel tree and consumed by clouds at its peak, the Spire dominated Cipritine’s skyline, its long shadow draping over the ancient, defensive walls like a thick blanket. Not even the asari had anything to rival its size or beauty. Tenzen felt a swell of pride for his peoples’ accomplishments as the skycar landed in front of the entrance to his hotel. 

Fallo handed Tenzen a data pad with his itinerary along with a door key for his room. Saluting him, Tenzen headed up to his temporary lodgings. The room was spacious with a hammock style bed, popular on Palaven for cushioning spurs and crests. There was an attached bathroom and a small kitchenette for preparing meals. The large window offered a stunning view of the city, though Tenzen noted the Spire must have been behind him since he couldn’t see it.

Setting down his footlocker, Tenzen opened it in search of his talon file. His fringe horns were still sharp at the tips though they were beginning to slowly round out once more. Tosca had told him that she preferred their natural shape and so he’d been attempting to expedite the process and sculpt them back into blunt edges. 

As he dug through his clothing, a familiar scent caught his attention. Confused, Tenzen pulled out one of his tunics, inhaling it and nearly doubling over with the sweet, musky smell of his _amicae_. Her scent was so _strong!_ Tosca enjoyed wearing his shirts to bed sometimes and must have stuffed this one back into the crate before he’d been able to wash it.

He took another greedy breath, closing his eyes. He could almost feel her fingertips ghosting over his fringe, thumb rubbing against the colony markings on his chin. He nearly expected to see her when he opened his eyes and felt a wave of disappointment when this wasn’t the case. 

Pulling up his omni-tool and syncing it to the local comm buoy system, he sent Tosca a message.

 **Just arrived at my hotel in Cipritine. I already miss you. Love, Tulip.** His mandibles flared at the use of his own nickname. If anyone else ever dared to call him that he’d probably punch them. Only one person in the galaxy was allowed to refer to him as anything other than his given name. And she was light years away. Sighing, Tenzen picked up the data pad with his itinerary. Time to focus on work. 

**********

“Your merit has already been vouched for,” Captain Victus stated as he stood in front of Tenzen and the other three candidates, hands clasped behind his back. “These evaluations are more perfunctory in nature. The Hierarchy wants assurance that you will excel in your newly appointed positions.” 

The Captain maintained a professional, almost companionable air, though Tenzen was once again given the impression that the man would rather be elsewhere. Given his reputation, Tenzen wondered _why_ Victus was handling these promotions at all. 

Casting a glance at the other candidates who stood rigidly alongside him, Tenzen took stock of his new companions; two males and one female. The men bore colony markings from Taetrus - specifically from the continent of Eluria though Tenzen didn’t recognize the city of origin - and Dulce, a small mountain town just outside Cipritine. The woman had the same elaborate white markings as Captain Victus, proclaiming her origins from Palaven’s capital. 

He’d reviewed the dossiers included in the itinerary Fallo had given him. Hanno Terlus, the Taetrun, was up for a promotion to Major. He had a long history of battling Separatists on the Hierarchy’s outer colonies and Tenzen suspected the man didn’t make his way into the civilized sector of society very often. Or perhaps he was merely being judgmental of the fact that Hanno’s colony markings were in desperate need of a touch-up and his posture appeared far too loose despite being in the presence of a man of Captain Victus’ caliber.

Pytheas Sannian, the other man, was the oldest of the group and bore more than a few chips and cracks in his facial plating. The weathered appearance of his fringe spoke of time spent near the ocean, the salt spray discoloring the natural slate grey of his plating to a mottled white. His impeccably pressed uniform and the scent of brandy lingering on his person led Tenzen to believe his advancement was overdue, and likely had been delayed by an overfondness of alcohol.

Their female companion, Koza Hellinus, was harder to scrutinize. She was roughly Tenzen’s age, with her colony markings and plates in good condition. Nothing about her posture or scent jumped out at him like it had the others, almost as if she was a complete neutral. She was up for a promotion to Colonel, though, so clearly the woman knew what she was doing when it came to her career. 

“Because you are all going to be placed within the fleet, ship discipline and tactics will consume the majority of your time,” Victus said, snapping Tenzen back to the present. “I’ll be meeting with you throughout training in efforts to station you where your skills will be best utilized.” The Captain turned his whiskey colored eyes on Tenzen. “Vallokius, I’ll be speaking with you first. Everyone else, you will accompany Private Kernan to await your turn. You will report to the docks once we’re through. Dismissed.”

Gesturing with his head for Tenzen to follow, he led him down a wide hall lined with plaques commemorating the various accomplishments of the Hierarchy’s finest. When they reached a moderately sized office, dominated by an antique-looking desk, Victus took a seat while Tenzen assumed parade rest. He was thankful he’d packed extra ointment for his shins. Otherwise, all this standing would be killing him by now. 

“Sit.” Victus ordered without looking up from the terminal he’d activated. 

Doing as commanded, Tenzen forced himself not to fidget until Victus regarded him once more. “Major Tenzen Vallokius. Originally from Pons, recently retired from Blackwatch due to injury. Highly recommended by General Oraka.” The Captain tapped his talons on the desk in apparent thought. “Tell me, Major, when it comes to your placement, do you have any preference as to class of ship or port?”

Tenzen was mildly shocked that his superior cared to ask. His past experience had taught him that he was a tool of the Hierarchy, aimed wherever they deemed most effective. His own opinions were of little concern.

“I have experience on all classes of vessel,” he began. “The type of ship I’m assigned to does not matter; I will perform my duty and what is expected-” 

“That’s not what I asked,” Victus cut in. “Is there a ship _you_ prefer and a port?”

Tenzen closed his mouth, swallowing his next sentence before deciding on how to answer. “Truth be told, I enjoy the layout of cruisers,” Tenzen conceded. “They’re fast and maneuverable without a swarm of staff and personnel onboard. I feel like I can easily learn everyone’s name and habits.”

Captain Victus didn’t verbally respond, instead motioning with his hand for Tenzen to continue, leaning back in his chair. Lulled into a sense of security, Tenzen relaxed his posture. “As far as port, I’d prefer the Citadel since my _amicae_ is there.” The admission was out before he could catch it. His blood suddenly felt like it had frozen in his veins as the Captain glanced at his terminal and no doubt the section of Tenzen’s dossier where it listed significant other. 

“Tosca Sharif, human nurse,” he intoned, not looking at Tenzen. Sitting up straight in his chair he nodded, reaching for a data pad. “That’ll be all, for now. Send in Lieutenant Terlus.”

Tenzen rose stiffly from his chair and left the room. If the Captain cared about his relationship with a human, he hid it well. But, the man had fought on Shanxi, why in the spirits’ names had he brought Tosca up at all? All he had to say was that he preferred the Citadel as a home port, he didn’t need to justify the desire!

Despite mentally berating himself for the rest of the week, nothing came from his confession. Tenzen found himself swamped in hypothetical battle analysis and ship logistics. All necessary preparations if he were to command his own vessel. 

He’d hardly spoken with the other candidates, though he had noticed a few things in their sparse interactions. Pytheas, or “Pye” had a tendency to use unnecessarily large words when around Hanno and Tenzen sensed that he found the younger man repugnant. For his part, once they were free of their obligations for the day, Hanno usually headed in the direction of the nearest strip club - an establishment known as the Play Pin. 

Koza remained an enigma. He suspected she returned to the hotel, same as him, but he never saw her in the lobby or other common areas. What scant free time he was granted Tenzen spent taking photographs of Cipritine and messaging with Tosca. He’d even treated himself to a camera drone, using it to take selfies and closeups of taller buildings. 

Tosca thought all his photographs were mesmerizing, and even he had to admit some of the compositions he’s taken with the drone were incredible. She liked the pictures he took of himself best, and had been subtly encouraging him to send her something more… salacious. She’d sent him a few holos of herself in either lingerie or else totally nude and he suspected she wanted him to reciprocate, even though she hadn’t said as much outright. 

That was how he found himself dressed in his cowboy attire, lying seductively on his bed, cock fully erect through the open fly of his pants. His camera drone circled overhead taking pictures. He was so caught up in his intimate photo-shoot he almost missed the chime from his omni-tool. It was a message from Hanno, which took him by surprise. 

**Hey Vallokius, it’s been over a week. We should all catch a drink some time after evaluations.**

Tenzen felt his mandibles flare out in consideration. He supposed it’d behoove him to get to know his fellow candidates better. They might cross paths professionally down the road. Having the suggestion come from Hanno was unexpected, but Tenzen messaged back that he was interested.

**Let’s meet end of next week at the Play Pin. Their bar is damn good.**

Tenzen doubted the bar was anything to write home about, but he supposed most things in Cipritine made what was available on the colony worlds Hanno frequented look poor in comparison. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to sending Tosca provocative holos. 

The rest of the week was filled with more ship schematics, weapons reports, and officer training. The feeling of constant scrutiny was hard to shake and by the time Tenzen and the others convened in front of the bright neon signs that advertised the Play Pin’s entrance, Tenzen was ready to unwind with a strong drink.

Pye radiated a mild sense of disgust as he stared at the flashing lights but didn’t say anything about the chosen venue. 

“You’ll like this place,” Hanno advised Tenzen and Koza, pointedly ignoring Pye. “All turian dancers. None of those blue-skinned whores.”

Tenzen felt his mandibles clamp tightly to his jaw in response to the statement. Already regretting his decision to go out with Hanno, he trailed behind him and into the dimly lit main room. The dancers wore elaborate costumes, embellished with gems that glittered in the spotlights. Thin wires studded with feathers and fabric were hooked around the cowls and extended out over the shoulders. The effect made the wearer seem to have a longer neck and slimmer lower half. Instead of poles, common in clubs with asari dancers, there were raised platforms of differing height for the performers. The tallest platforms were generally reserved for the more popular dancers and that was the direction Hanno was headed. 

They took up position near a turian woman wearing an elaborate crown studded with crystals - and nothing else. She was truly a beauty; slim waist, petite mandibles, and plates that had been rubbed with some type of powder that made her glow an iridescent purple under the stage lights. Hanno growled in barely concealed lust and even Pye was watching with a decidedly non-academic interest. 

All Tenzen could think about was Tosca. He wondered when his own race had lost its sex appeal. Now when he turned to private fantasy for release, images of smooth skin and supple lips came to mind. Even the stripper presently gyrating in front of him was barely cause for arousal. 

Tenzen ordered himself a Horosk. If he was destined to spend his evening at a strip club seated next to a racist staring at a display that did little for him, he wasn’t going to be sober. 

“Out of curiosity,” Pye said, tearing his eyes away from the dancer and taking a large swig of brandy, “when you all met with Captain Victus, did he ask you for a port of preference?”

“Yeah,” Tenzen nodded. “Never had a superior care what I wanted before.”

“I doubt it’ll come of anything,” Hanno replied, eyes glued on the stripper. “He probably asked to get a read on our personalities more than anything else.”

“I’d prefer for my home port to be Palaven,” Pye stated, ignoring Hanno. “I’m accustomed to the creature comforts one can only get in Cipritine and other noble Hierarchy ports.”

Hanno snorted, vocals whirring in derision. “ _Noble_. Keep your pretentious Cipritine docks. I’d prefer Oma Ker if our preferences are actually being taken into account.”

“I requested the Citadel,” Koza said, speaking up for the first time.

“Too crowded for me,” Pye opined, draining his glass. “I prefer the more open layout here.”

“Too many aliens on the Citadel if you ask me,” Hanno added, tossing a chit on the stage. “I’ve only been there a few times. Last time I went, fucking suit-rat hacked my tool and stole half my credits! I spent most of my shore leave at C-Sec dealing with the mess!”

“By suit-rat I’ll assume you mean a quarian,” Pye flatly responded as he waved down a waitress and ordered another brandy. 

“They shouldn’t even be _allowed_ on the Citadel after what they did with those damn geth!” Hanno spat, turning to glare at Pye. “And don’t even get me started on the humans!” His subharmonics churned the air with rage and revulsion, making Tenzen feel physically ill. 

“What about humans?” Koza asked, sounding defensive. 

“Those arrogant pyjacks comprise the worst qualities of the worst races!” Hanno informed her. “They’re ugly like asari with fur to make it worse, whiny like quarians, with the aggression of a krogan and greed of a volus! Why the galaxy is so taken with them I have no idea.”

“Humanity has potential,” Tenzen gritted out, forcing his vocals to stay in check. “They have a powerful military despite their races’ youth and have already contributed to the electronics and medical fields.” 

“Very true,” Pye agreed. “The Alliance has proven itself a useful ally in keeping the Terminus pirates in check.”

“Humans are half the reason the batarians have gotten so sadistic!” Hanno scoffed. “They’re embroiled in an unofficial turf-war. All due to the fact the Council _‘unofficially’_ backed humanity in claiming more Terminus colonies.”

“None of that’s true!” Koza growled. “You’re just an ignorant _culus_ from the outer worlds! If you spent any real time around humans you’d realize what wonderful people they are!” 

Hanno turned and studied her for a moment before grimacing. “You’re one of _those_ , huh?” He leaned in closer to her. “Have a pet human back on the Citadel? Does Captain Victus know you’re a human fucker?”

“Shut up Hanno!” Tenzen bellowed, just as Koza let out a vicious snarl, rising from her chair. 

“Whom I share my bed and body with are none of your concern!” she seethed. “My record speaks for itself!” Slamming down a credit chit to cover her half-consumed beverage, she stormed out of the club.

“I think I’ll be leaving too,” Tenzen announced. He was far too angry to be in public.

“Oh, not you too!” Hanno groused. “Come on Vallokius!”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Tenzen answered coolly with a nod to Pye before heading in the direction Koza had gone. Once outside, he took a deep breath to calm himself. _Racist piece of shit_ , he fumed. Still, he’d managed not to completely lose his temper. Unlike Koza. 

Spying the woman in question up ahead, Tenzen jogged to catch up with her. “Hey,” he called out as he approached. 

She regarded him with deep orange eyes before looking away. “Thanks for backing me up,” she told him softly. “You’d think I’d be used to the racist remarks by now, but…” she shook her head.

“You have a human lover,” Tenzen stated bluntly. 

“He’s a wonderful man,” Koza retorted, squaring her shoulders. “If you have a problem with it then-”

“My Tosca is the most amazing woman in all of creation,” he interjected, vocals reverent. “She’s beautiful, kind, supportive. I’ve found my other half in a human and don’t care what prejudiced assholes like Hanno might think.”

Koza trilled in surprise. “You…”

“It’s nice to know,” he told her, flaring his mandibles into a wry smile, “that I’m not alone in my opinion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to S0me_Writer for beta-reading this chapter. =)


	17. Served

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culus – Colloquial word for “asshole.”

With Tenzen on Palaven, Tosca had spent her new free time getting back into yoga. Trella had recently started going to an asari-run yoga studio and Tosca had decided to purchase a membership too. She lamented that she wasn’t as flexible as she had once been. The other asari and human patrons easily bent themselves into the positions along with the instructor while she floundered to even do downward dog.

“Don’t worry, it’ll come back to you,” Trella encouraged as they rolled up their mats after class. “It’s not like you were bad, just kinda stiff.”

Tosca sighed. “I feel so out of shape. I thought line dancing was enough but looks like I need to join a gym as well as go to weekly yoga.”

“Please!” Trella huffed as the pair exited the studio. “Human figures are similar to asari and you’re _definitely_ not out of shape.” 

“Either way, no ice cream for me tonight,” Tosca declared as they waited for a skycab. “Tenzen’s coming home in a few weeks and I want to show him just how _flexible_ I’ve become.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at Trella. 

“Goddess you two are horny,” Trella snorted as a cab pulled up. “And people say asari are nymphomaniacs.” 

“What, like you and Eeju aren’t just as bad?” Tosca teased. 

“No, actually,” Trella responded as the car took off and joined the constant stream of traffic. “Truth be told, I don’t have much of a sex drive. I’m romantically attracted to people, but anything sexual is strictly kept to serious lovers, and even then it doesn’t happen too often.”

“You’re asexual?” Tosca hoped she didn’t sound incredulous.

“Definitely on that spectrum,” Trella agreed. “I know it’s hard for people to understand since my race has a reputation for being _sexual deviants_.” She emphasized the last words with an eye-roll. “Growing up on Thessia, I thought something was wrong with me. All my friends seemed obsessed with mind melding or even trying physical stuff. I just never had the urge.” She shrugged. 

“Are many asari ace?” Tosca asked. 

“More than I thought,” Trella answered. “Just because a maiden works as an exotic dancer doesn’t mean she’s interested in sex or melding.”

“That’s true,” Tosca acknowledged before another thought came to her. “What about Eeju? I know salarians have a notoriously low sex drive too.”

“They do and he does,” Trella nodded. “We’re a good match in that way.” She smiled fondly. 

“You know, my first day at Huerta, nurse Athuza told me salarians were the best race for a cross-species liaison,” Tosca recalled. “Do you think she’s on the spectrum?”

“She’s definitely _not_ on the asexual spectrum,” Trella laughed. “Eeju says that she actually frequents salarian clubs and bars looking for those eager to _embrace eternity_.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “While salarians do typically have a lower sex drive it doesn’t mean they lack a libido entirely. Athuza doesn’t have to worry about finding someone to have fun with.”

Tosca grinned, trying to picture the asari matron in a slinky dress putting the moves on a salarian gentleman. “She definitely has a type.”

As the pair headed for the elevator, an elcor in a red and gold shirt approached them. 

“Rhetorical question: Tosca Sharif?”

Tosca blinked, wondering if she’d met him before. Maybe at Huerta? She mentally catalogued all the elcor patients she could remember having but drew a blank. “That’s me,” she answered, turning to face him.

The elcor handed her a pair of data pads. “With grim severity: You’ve been served.”

Tosca looked down at the pads in her hand, flipping through the text. They bore the heading of the local Justice Court and words like “battery” and “assault,” appeared numerous times. 

“What is this?” Tosca asked as her pulse began to race. “I haven’t done anything.”

Looking up she saw the elcor was already lumbering out the door. Turning to glance at Trella, they jogged after him. “Hey, wait!” Tosca called. “What the hell is this about? I’ve never hurt anyone! I’m a nurse for crying out loud!”

“Disinterested rebuff: I’m merely the process server. I don’t know what any of this pertains to.” He turned to leave, but added, “Plainly: you should talk to an attorney.” 

Tosca and Trella stood staring down at the legal pads in Tosca’s hand while the world seemed to churn around them. “An attorney?” Tosca whispered, a tremble in her voice. 

“Here, let’s get off the street,” Trella said, taking her by the hand and walking back inside the building. “We’ll go to our apartment, make some tea, and _really_ look these over.” She wrapped her arm around Tosca’s shoulder. “Don’t worry Tosca, I’m here. It’ll be okay.”

**********

“This is an absolute load!” Alma informed Trajan, slamming her coffee cup onto the cafe table hard enough that some of the liquid splashed out. “Out of all the people that racist asshole tries to sue he goes after Tosca?”

“It’s because Tenzen’s on Palaven and a high-ranking Hierarchy official. Going after him is pointless,” Trella interceded.

Trajan hummed, setting the data pads charging Tosca with assault and battery back down on the table. He turned his honey-colored eyes to Tosca. “This isn’t a criminal charge. It’s civil. You aren’t looking at jail time. Mr. Decker is seeking monetary damages for injuries he alleges he sustained at your behest.”

“What?” Tosca squeaked. “That’s… I never told Tenzen to hurt him!”

“That guy was making racist comments and he and his friends came at Tenzen like a pack of drunk clowns!” Alma seethed, standing up with palms flat on the tabletop. “If anything, Tenzen acted in self defense!”

“He’s suing Tosca in small claims court,” Trajan advised in a calm tone. “He’s asking for 14,000 credits for medical bills, pain, and suffering.”

“There’s no way his treatment cost that!” Alma exclaimed.

“I agree, this seems like it’s all some sort of power game meant to intimidate Tosca,” Trella added.

“Trajan, there’s no way I can afford to pay this guy fourteen hundred credits, let alone fourteen _thousand_ ,” Tosca told him. “Please, this was a stupid club brawl. I don’t even know how this guy learned my name.”

“We’re regulars.” Alma pointed out. “All he had to do was go ask about the woman with a turian boyfriend.”

Tosca slumped. “Do I have to go to court?” she asked Trajan, feeling utterly defeated. “Get on the stand and answer questions?”

Trajan flared his mandibles in a gentle smile. “The grounds for this suit are flimsy at best. There’s no criminal charge against either you or Tenzen - and in all likelihood there won’t be since it sounds like mutual combat that could get Mr. Decker in trouble as well. I think Trella may be correct that this is mostly a scare tactic.”

“Tosca rejected him,” Trella confirmed. “Seems like he’s trying to punish _her_ more than anyone else.”

“If that’s the case, I might be able to send Mr. Decker a demand letter on your behalf,” Trajan offered. “Remind him that you can’t seek attorney’s fees in small claims court, so he’ll be paying out of pocket for counsel. And without a high chance of success.”

Tosca sucked in a deep breath. “You’d do that for me?” She asked. She’d been hesitant to ask Trajan for help. The last time they’d spoken, she’d told him she thought it’d be better if they were _just friends._ He’d seemed slightly hurt and she hadn’t planned to talk to him anytime soon. Trella had convinced her that he was fine and it’d be foolish not to seek his opinion. 

“I’m externing at a large firm and the partners love doing pro-bono work,” Trajan responded. “I’ll see if my managing attorney will sign off on me helping you.” He took a sip of his tea. “Besides, I’ve started seeing a human classmate. I feel like I have a personal stake in this too.”

“Pro-bono means free, right?” Alma clarified. 

Trajan nodded. “I’m still not technically licensed to practice on the Citadel until I finish a few more classes and take the Intergalactic Legal Exam, but I can do all the work necessary for your case and have my supervisor sign-off on anything that might go to the courts or opposing parties.” He leaned forward and gripped Tosca’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “If they don’t have to do the work and are merely reviewing my stuff, I can almost guarantee they’ll help you free of charge.”

Tosca sighed, feeling like a colossal weight had been lifted off her chest. “Thank you, Trajan. I don’t know what I’d have done without your help.”

“Don’t mention it,” Trajan said with a wave of his hand. “I hate racists, it’ll be nice to take this guy down.”

Leaving the cafe, Tosca tried to distract herself. Trajan assured them that he’d get something written and submitted to his supervisor that afternoon, but in the meantime all she could do was wait. Trella and Alma stayed with her until she had to leave for work. There, she occupied herself with her patients and reports. 

On her break, she called Tulip. She’d been putting off telling him about the suit until she fully understood what was happening, but now she felt he ought to know. She waited impatiently as the connection went through, smiling in spite of everything when his face appeared on her omni-interface. 

“Hey, Tulip,” she greeted. 

“Tosca! I was hoping you’d call.” Tulip flared his mandibles out in a wide grin. “Did you get those pictures I sent?”

Tosca bit her lower lip. The holos Tulip had sent this morning were enough to make her choke on her breakfast. She’d given her roommates some lame excuse and saved the images to… admire later. 

“I definitely got them,” she said, voice turning smokey. “I’ll be looking at them _very_ closely later tonight.”

Tulip growled loud enough to be heard over the connection. “Hopefully you approve,” he rumbled. “Everything else going well? Other than missing me, of course,” he teased. 

“Actually,” Tosca hesitated, trying to determine how best to tell him about the lawsuit. “Something… crappy did happen to me yesterday.”

The rolling purr Tulip had been making immediately stuttered to a halt as he scrutinized her face over the connection. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, just…” she sighed. “Remember that racist guy from Nebula Night Club?”

“I _might_ recall him,” Tulip growled, eyes narrowing into thin slits. “Did he try to do something to you? I swear, I’ll-”

“Yes and no,” Tosca interrupted. “He’s… He’s suing me for 14,000 credits. He’s claiming I ordered you to beat him up.”

“What?!” Tulip roared loud enough that Tosca worried someone might overhear. 

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a humorless huff. “I talked to an attorney about it. He thinks I can get the case dismissed. He already sent a demand letter to the guy. Trella thinks this is all an intimidation tactic, that the guy’s trying to punish me for snubbing him.”

Tosca could see Tulip grinding his mandibles against his cheeks in barely restrained fury. “I see,” he replied in a voice nearly consumed by drumming subvocals. “How much is this attorney charging you?”

“He’s not,” Tosca answered gently. “He’s Trella’s friend. I actually went on a date with him back before we were together. He despises racists and wants to ' _put the fear of the Primarch_ ’ in this guy.”

“He doesn’t want anything for helping you?” 

The unasked question was obvious enough and Tosca shook her head. “He’s dating someone else,” she told him. “Another human, actually. That’s part of the reason why he wants to do this case.”

Tulip’s mandibles relaxed. “Well, he has my thanks then. Still, would it be easier for you if I just paid this human _culus_ what he wants? I don’t want your career or life to be impacted because _I_ got into a fight.”

Tosca’s eyes went wide. “14,000 credits? No, absolutely not! I’d rather go to court then see you pay that asshole!” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “It’ll be okay, Tulip. I promise.”

Tulip nodded, though he still looked concerned. “Alright. But message me immediately if there’s anything I can do. Doesn’t matter what time, I’ll find an excuse to take a call.”

“Thanks,” Tosca smiled. “I knew I loved you for more than your body.” Tulip’s facial plates relaxed as conversation steered into more playful waters. 

Despite everything, with the support of her friends and boyfriend, Tosca felt that everything would work out. In a few short weeks, Tulip would be back- and in command of a Hierarchy ship! Things would return to normal. Or at least, as normal as her life ever was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this chapter. =)


	18. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - Sexual content after the chapter break

Tenzen craned his neck as he directed his camera drone higher. He wanted to capture the Spire bursting through the clouds, framed by the intense yellows and greens of the Palaveni sunset. Since this was his final night in Cipritine, he needed to get all the images he could before departing on his newly assigned ship.

The Steadfast was a thing of beauty and a marvel of turian engineering. A cruiser, just like he’d hoped, with a havoc team and even a Cabal stationed on board. He’d never felt prouder than when he walked the hallways of the ship and was greeted by the crew as _Captain Vallokius._

Tosca was going to love the Steadfast too. He couldn’t wait to show her all the points of interest; the CIC, the engine room, the massive cargo hold the… Captain’s _private_ quarters. He’d already decided that she’d be the only other person with the door code. Well, except for the ship doctor, but only for emergencies. 

He hummed as he angled the lens of his camera, attempting to compensate for the glare. 

“Thinking of home?” Koza asked from where she stood next to him, omni-tool aglow with statistics on the Spire. She enjoyed tagging along on his photography excursions. Being a history buff, she’d regale him with a building or monument’s background, often suggesting places to take holos. She’d look up additional historical facts on the landmarks while he photographed them. Often, she’d ask for copies of his pictures to pass along to her boyfriend. 

“Thinking more about the people,” he admitted, a mandible flicking out in a soft smile.

Koza’s vocals mimicked his own purring ones. “I can’t wait to see Walter. Vid chat just isn’t the same, you know?”

“Definitely not the same as being able to touch them, smell them, hold them at night,” Tenzen agreed as he pressed the controls to snap a few images before moving the drone further back.

“Still,” Koza said, orange eyes affixed to her tool, “I’ll miss Cipritine. So much history and culture here. _Our_ history and culture.” She let out a soft keen. “I wish Walter could see it for himself.”

“Maybe he can, some day?” Tenzen offered, looking at her. “Other races visit. He’d just need an enviro-suit.”

Koza gave him a wry smile. “Maybe. I’d be more afraid of the reception he’d receive. The humans who do come here are generally diplomats or soldiers. They’re used to unfriendly stares.” She sighed, craning her neck up in search of Tenzen’s drone. “Walter’s not military. He’s a civilian through and through.”

“So’s Tosca, though she seems to deal with the remarks better than I do,” Tenzen told her as he lowered his drone back to street level.

“I was talking to Walter about you and Tosca last night, actually,” Koza said as Tenzen packed his drone into its carrying case. 

“Yeah? About him helping us find an apartment? Since he’s _the best_ real estate agent on the Citadel?” Tenzen added a teasing twang to his vocals. 

“That too,” Koza chuckled. “But we were thinking, since we’re all on the Citadel, maybe we could do weekly meetups?” She fixed him with a hopeful gaze. 

“Meetups?” Tenzen asked with a quizzical chirp. 

“Yeah.” Koza rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe dinner and games at each other’s apartments? I guess we could hit a bar or two.” She looked at him uncertainly. “Would Tosca like that type of thing?”

“I think she would,” he assured, tucking his drone under an arm. Koza visibly relaxed, adding a happy chirrup to her vocals. 

“I’m going back to the hotel to finish packing,” she informed him, closing her omni-tool interface. “Coming?”

“Not yet, think I’ll wander around a bit more.” 

Koza nodded before turning and heading up the busy street with a departing wave. 

Tosca would definitely enjoy spending time with another human-turian couple, Tenzen thought as he headed toward the nearby Cipritine Park. Maybe they could invite her lawyer friend and his human lover too? There was strength in solidarity, after all. 

Humming to himself as he walked, he decided to stop inside a sweets shop. He’d always loved _crustula,_ and the chocolate and spice covered meats were hard to find outside Hierarchy space. 

The particular shop, located on the corner of the park, sold all types of pre-made desserts and specialty cookware. Tenzen glanced at the pans and baking racks on his way to the large display case. It all looked too complex. He wasn’t totally inept in the kitchen, but he wasn’t a chef by any means. 

He froze as a customer who’d been admiring some type of skillet turned to face him. 

“Captain Victus!” Tenzen instinctively snapped to attention, remembering he and Victus were now the same rank only seconds later. Relaxing his posture, Tenzen cleared his throat. "Evening."

"Good evening, Captain," Victus greeted with an amused flick of his left mandible.

Tenzen tried not to wince at the title, a clear reminder of his embarrassing salute. Floundering, he focused on the skillet still gripped in the other Captain’s hand. “Do you cook?” He almost added _‘Sir’_ to the end of the question before stopping himself. 

Victus glanced down at the object in question. “No, I’m a terrible cook.” At Tenzen’s confused vocals, Victus let out a soft chuckle. “This is for my son. He’s exceptionally skilled when it comes to the culinary arts.”

“How old is he?” Tenzen asked, feeling himself ease into the conversation. 

“He just turned fifteen last week, actually. He’ll be starting boot camp next month.” The proud, thrumming vocals that accompanied this statement weren’t lost on Tenzen. He felt an odd pang of envy toward the Captain’s son. Clearly, his father adored him and would be there to see him off when he left for training. Nobody had gone with Tenzen when he left for boot camp. He’d even made a point to tell his mothers he _didn’t_ want them there, fearing that they’d fight and cause a scene. 

“I’m sure he’ll do well,” Tenzen replied, memories from his own boot camp experience fading into the background of his minds’ eye. 

“He’ll do wonderfully,” Victus agreed with a fond outward flick of his mandibles. “Still, it’s hard to believe how old he is. Seems like only yesterday he was a chick in the cowl.” 

“You two are close,” Tenzen observed.

“We are,” Victus nodded. “Tarquin’s the reason I requested this posting in the first place. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could before he left.” The older man rubbed a hand over the surface of the skillet, seemingly lost in some distant memory.

“He sounds like a son anybody would be proud of,” Tenzen offered. 

“Out of all the titles I’ve ever held, _'dad’_ is still the greatest,” Victus admitted, looking at Tenzen with the same proud smile dancing behind his amber eyes. 

Tenzen could only nod. He’d never pictured Victus as a family man. It was common knowledge that his mate had died nearly a decade ago. Tenzen had figured Victus was bonded to his career now. That he was a single parent - and an involved one - was a revelation. 

Fleetingly, Tenzen wondered if he’d be a good father before dismissing the idea. Children had never been in his plan. They still weren’t - unless Tosca wanted them? That… was something to consider later. They were nowhere near ready for _that_ conversation. 

“You’re departing in the morning?” Victus asked, pulling Tenzen from his thoughts. 

Remembering why he’d come to the shop in the first place, Tenzen rumbled an affirmance as he headed for the display case. Catching the attendant’s eye, he selected a few _crustula_ from the glass case as Victus moved to pay for the skillet. 

“I’m sure your _amicae_ will be pleased to see you,” Victus told him. Tenzen didn’t imagine the teasing subvocals. 

He let a lewd purr slip from his harmonics. If Victus wanted to be casual, he could do that. “She’ll be _thrilled_ to see me,” Tenzen assured him. 

Victus barked out a laugh, shaking his head. The clerk handed him back the skillet, doing an admirable job at pretending not to hear their conversation. Tenzen and Victus exited the shop together and Victus nodded to him as he made to leave in the opposite direction. 

“Sir- Victus,” Tenzen called. Victus paused and half-turned toward him. “I just wanted to say, thank you.”

“For?” 

“About my _amicae_ \- well, humans in general. Not everyone… approves of them. I just wanted to thank you for not judging me - or her - because of her race.” The words spilled out before he could stop himself. He’d felt like he needed to say something, though. In the wake of Hanno’s racism and the resulting critical glances in his and Koza’s direction, the Captain’s discretion and professionalism had meant more than Victus would ever know.

Victus gave him an appraising look. “War is war. I don’t hate humans. I dislike _specific_ humans, but that’s true of any race.” He cocked his head, the action making him look suddenly younger. “Whom you choose to love is of no concern to your superiors so long as you do your job well. I’m sure your _amicae_ is a wonderful woman. Just as I’m sure you’ll serve admirably as Captain of the Steadfast.” He gave Tenzen a companionable, reassuring series of subharmonic clicks.

_‘Thank you,’_ Tenzen responded subvocally with a dip of his head. As Victus turned back and headed towards the skycar terminal, Tenzen allowed himself to sigh. It was good to know he had support from those whose opinions mattered. 

**********

Tosca twirled as she walked, trying to take in all the flashing lights, screens, and equipment. Tulip’s new ship was, in a word, amazing. She’d arrived at the docking bay to watch the Steadfast pull into port and had met Tulip as soon as he’d stepped off. Now, her boyfriend was giving her a tour of the giant vessel he commanded and Tosca was feeling both immensely impressed and slightly overwhelmed. 

Tulip walked in front of her, head held high as he pointed to things of interest. “The bridge is the true heart of any ship,” he informed her. “The Steadfast has the latest, cutting edge technology, so I can communicate with both Council and Hierarchy space on different monitors simultaneously.”

Tulip turned, dipping his head in a way that displayed his fringe. Reba had referred to the habit as ‘peacocking,’ since Trella had advised it was something turian males subconsciously did to show off to potential partners. Tosca doubted Tulip would appreciate being compared to a bird. Even if it was a pretty one. 

“What do you think?” Tulip asked, a warbling tenor to his subvocals. 

“This is incredible,” Tosca replied, turning another full circle to take everything in. Facing him once more she beamed. “I’m so proud of you, Tulip.”

Tulip made an embarrassed sounding whine before coughing into his fist. “Thanks,” he muttered shyly. “Still getting used to people calling me _‘Captain.’”_ His mandibles dropped into a jagged, jack-o-lantern grin. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, though.”

“ _Captain_ _Vallokius_ ,” Tosca intoned, walking over and slipping her hands around his waist. Tulip was wearing his formal attire - a royal blue and black jacket with matching tunic and leggings. Tosca squeezed his waist, making his breath hitch. “You know, _Captain_ , we’re totally alone here. It looks like the rest of the crew has left the ship.”

“Shore leave,” Tulip choked out, emerald eyes burning as he stared down at her. 

“Hmm. Is that the _Captain’s_ chair?” Tosca asked, glancing at the largest of a series of turian designed seats facing toward the gigantic, opaque window. She let her palm ghost over Tulip’s crotch, noticing he was already damp - an indication his seam was parted. 

“I- what- you,” Tulip cleared his throat. “We could sit? In the chair?” 

Tosca bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and ruining the mood. “We _could_ sit in that chair, couldn’t we,” she pretended to muse. “Or, _you_ could sit in that chair and I,” she squeezed the space between his legs, palm rubbing against his emerging cock, “could sit _on_ your lap?”

Tulip grabbed her by the wrist and practically hauled her over to the chair, vocals thrumming in the lower registers that heralded his desire. He sat down, though even seated, he was still eye-level. 

Tosca snaked her arms around his neck, fingers running along the back of his head, whispering at the sensitive patch of hide beneath his fringe. Tulip growled, pulling her close as he gently nipped her shoulder. 

“ _Spirits_ , I’ve missed you, my love,” he whispered into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too,” she told him, pressing her brow against his crest. After a moment she pulled away, determined to reconnect with him in the way they both clearly craved. Crawling into his lap, she rocked against him. Tulip moaned and she captured his open mouth in a greedy kiss. His hands moved to her ass. He gave her a squeeze before pulling her back against the large, firm bulge in his pants. 

All the sleepless nights with only his picture and her hands for comfort came crashing down. Whimpering with barely restrained need, she ground against him, the friction not nearly enough. Her underwear was already soaked and she stifled a cry when Tulip bucked in response to her ministrations. 

Her hands flew to the small clasps at his fly and Tulip shuddered as he sprang free from the confines of the thick fabric. She’d almost forgotten how absolutely _perfect_ he was - he looked like porn and girlish fantasy in one large, blue package. 

Tulip made a frustrated buzzing sound in his vocals as he struggled with the button at the top of her jeans. Tosca let out a soft giggle as she raised up on her knees to pull down the offending garment. Kicking her pants and underwear to the floor she positioned herself, sinking onto him with a heady, drug out moan. 

“Tenzen!” she gasped as he filled her. “God, Tenzen!”

Tulip growled out a string of words her translator couldn’t decipher before he moved his thumb to rub against her clit. Tosca pressed her face into his cowl to keep from wailing as her inner walls constricted around him. 

Gripping her under the buttocks, Tulip lifted her off his cock before thrusting up into her. “Fuck!” she bit out, determined not to scream. “Tenzen, please, don’t stop!”

“I love it when you say my name,” he rumbled over the percussion of his subvocals. “Ah, fuck, say my name!”

“Tenzen,” she panted, grinding against him when she came flush. “Oh, Tenzen! Fuck me! Fuck me, Tenzen!”

“Yes!” he snarled. “Yes! We’re doing this! We’re doing this!” He increased his pace until he was pounding into her. The material from his pants prevented the usual chafing that accompanied their rougher couplings and Tosca’s movements became frantic as she chased her release. She gripped onto the front of Tulip’s cowl, knuckles turning white as her orgasm consumed her in electric, white heat. 

“Shit! I want -” Tulip gasped, “we can’t here- I want, inside of you, Tosca!” 

Had she been thinking clearly she might have understood his garbled sentence. But as it was, she wanted him to cum inside her, knot with her, reaffirm their bond. Pressing down hard, Tulip roared in his secondary vocals as he emptied himself inside her. 

He made to pull out, but she clung to him, anchoring herself to his lap. She felt the base of his cock swell, locking them together as his subharmonics pitched into higher registers beyond her hearing.

After a timeless eternity spent holding each other, Tosca sat up. It was then she understood what Tulip had been trying to say. 

“Crap.”

“Shit.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Tosca grimaced. “How far to your quarters?”

Tulip made a series of soft whistles and hums. “We’ll need to take the elevator,” he informed her, glancing around. “I really, _really_ hope we don’t run into anyone.”

“There’s no way I can get my pants on,” Tosca said as she looked over Tulip’s shoulder, praying no one came onto the bridge. Silently, she cursed herself for getting them into this situation. The absolute _last_ thing she wanted was to humiliate Tulip in front of his crew! 

“We’ll have to move fast,” Tulip advised, pulling her from her thoughts. Gripping her around the lower back he rose to his feet. 

Tosca wrapped her legs around him, hands gripping his cowl. He lingered for only a moment, bending so she could grab her pants. Then, he took off down the hallway, pausing to glance around corners before keeping close to the wall as he moved. 

It was all very cloak and dagger; his movements and gait an echo of his Blackwatch days. It would have been more impressive if they weren’t tied together at the crotch.

Somehow, they made it to the elevator and Tulip’s room without encountering another person. Tulip collapsed onto his bed as they both exhaled, laughing in relief.

“I’m sorry, Tulip, I wasn’t thinking,” Tosca began, but he shook his head, purring as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “No harm done. I can wipe the security footage and the cleaning crew should be here in another hour.” His mandibles flared into a grin as he tilted his head. “I’d have never agreed to… breaking in my chair if I thought there was a real possibility of getting caught.” 

Tosca gave him a playful smile. “Always have a contingency plan, huh?” 

“Something like that,” he nodded, playfully nipping at her ear. 

Tosca gave him a kiss on the nose before surveying their surroundings. His room was comparatively large with a desk terminal, two sets of steel drawers bolted to the wall, and a closet. There was an attached bathroom but it notably lacked a shower, having only a toilet and vanity. Tulip hadn’t decorated yet and the place still felt very new - like a stock photo.

“You should frame and display some of your holos,” she suggested. “It’d make your room feel more personalized.”

Tulip hummed. “I suppose the walls could use something.”

“Maybe print some pictures of Pons? That way you’ll have home with you wherever you travel.”

Tulip’s mandibles fluttered as he regarded her. “Pons… hasn’t been home in a long time.” His eyes glanced away before refocusing with an intensity she hadn’t been expecting. “Home… is wherever you are.”

Tosca swallowed down a lump of emotions before pressing a passionate kiss against Tulip’s mouth. “Welcome home, Tulip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, S0me_Writer is an amazing beta reader and has all my thanks. 
> 
> Additionally, weekly updates might be a bit slow in light of the upcoming holidays. I'll do my best, but no promises.


	19. Home on the Range

Tenzen raced through the steady stream of Citadel traffic, swerving around skycars and larger transport vehicles. Tosca’s grip around his waist tightened as they dropped down into the lower level of traffic, joining the silver blur that coursed through the sky like a gleaming river. He loved that she enjoyed riding his skycycle almost as much as he did. They both preferred it over cabs or the transit system. 

The matching shirts she’d found and purchased for them made him feel like they were on a team, and he took pride in wearing the deep purple she’d selected. Koza had been envious. She’d asked Tosca where she could get a pair for herself and Walter. 

As he pulled onto a quieter side avenue he felt his mandibles flare out in contentment. The apartment Walter had found for them was in Kithoi Ward, in a newer building. The tenants were mixed, with no single race comprising too great a majority. Perfect for a young inter-species couple just starting out. 

Tenzen parked his cycle in the below ground garage, taking off his helmet at the same time as Tosca. Her hair stood on end, charged with wind and electricity. Combined with her alert, happy expression, she was a vision of beauty. 

“What are you smiling at?” she asked him, tilting her head as the pair walked toward the elevator. 

“Just thinking about how pretty you are,” he replied. 

Tosca scoffed, averting her eyes and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I look like a mess,” she informed him. 

“Never.” He wished she could see herself the way he did. Every time he complimented her appearance she’d brush it off or deny it. He’d keep reminding her that she was beautiful though, and one day, she wouldn’t argue the fact. 

“That was a fun evening,” Tosca commented as they stepped inside their home. “Sounds like Trajan and Yua had an amazing time on Invictus. I didn’t realize the planet had so much jungle.”

“The jungle is swarming with poisonous insects and carnivorous beasts,” Tenzen informed her. No matter how hard Trajan tried to convince him otherwise, Invictus was still a humid, backwater shithole. The other man had been wonderful in getting the court case against Tosca dismissed however, and for that, Tenzen was forever grateful. He sighed. “The cruise Trajan and Yua went on did look fun,” he admitted. 

“Does Pons have cruises?” Tosca asked as she disappeared into their bedroom. 

“Pons is mostly grassland,” he reminded her. “And people aren’t exactly flocking there for vacation.” He glanced at the large, framed holo of the Pons sunset hanging above their couch. He hadn’t been back in years. A decade, actually. He wondered if the _xemna_ range was still the sanctuary he remembered; yellow and teal grasses nearly up to his keel in some places with unseen birds and bugs calling to each other in the twilight breeze. 

“I’d still like to see it,” Tosca said, returning to the living area with bare feet and a loose fitted shirt. “Too bad they don’t offer trail rides or let people stay on a _xemna_ ranch.”

Tenzen shook his head. “Humanity and turians have very different views when it comes to cowboys,” he reiterated. “No turian in their right mind would want to play pretend at being a _xemna_ hand.” 

A thought rushed to the forefront of his mind. One he’d had before but never given much consideration. But if Trajan could make Invictus seem impressive... “Would you really want to go to Pons and herd _xemna_?” he asked, walking over to her. 

“Of course!” Tosca immediately responded as though the answer should have been obvious to him. “That would be a dream trip for me.”

“Well,” Tenzen began, moving to wrap her in his arms. “The Steadfast doesn’t typically travel to Pons. But we do go to Taetrus, which has a direct flight there.” He stared down into the swirling greens and browns of Tosca’s eyes. “I have some leave coming up in the next few months, and if you wanted - _really_ wanted to go to Pons, I could contact the rancher I used to work for when I was younger. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to have some free assistance with the herd.”

“Really?” Tosca asked in a high pitched voice. 

“Really,” he chuckled. “Not my idea of a vacation, but I haven’t been back in ages and if it’d make you happy, then -”

Tosca leaped into his arms, nearly knocking him over in her enthusiasm. He grabbed her beneath the thighs just as she pressed a passionate kiss to his mouth. “Tulip, I really, _really_ want to go to Pons,” she whispered into the scant space between them. 

“Then we’ll go,” he promised, nuzzling against the side of her face. “We can be cowboys for a week.”

Tosca’s excited gasp and arms around his neck were his answer. 

**********

It was nearly five months to the day since Tulip had suggested that they visit Pons. Tosca had been unable to sleep at all the night before their departure from Taetrus, worrying whether or not she’d adequately packed. Pons didn’t see many levo tourists, so Tosca had stuffed an entire crate full of snacks and instant meals for herself. 

Tulip had been shocked at how much she’d fit inside her two travel crates and tried to convince her that she’d over-packed. But still, she’d never traveled to an alien world before - the Citadel didn’t count in her mind as there were already plenty of humans there when she’d arrived. This was exciting and new. She was perhaps the first human to ever visit Herban, Tulip’s hometown. 

Yet, it wasn’t until they’d left the spaceport and rented a skycar for the long drive to the _xemna_ ranch that Tosca truly felt she was on foreign soil. The landscape was flat; a grass sea that extended past the horizon. As she looked closer though, much like an ocean, the grass waved and undulated with the wind. It varied in color from bright teal blades to bushier looking yellow fronds. Strange, abnormally tall flowers on silver stalks swayed with breezes, their thickly packed, garnet red petals shining like beacons in the endless rolling prairie. 

Every now and then, small birds with lavish, ebony black head-feathers rocketed up above the verge, stubby wings flapping and keeping them aloft for a moment before they sank back down into the grass. _Kajun birds_ , Tulip had called them. Apparently the display was a territorial thing. 

Mammoth, domed boulders dotted the landscape in places; a procession of tortoise shells frozen in place, grays, tans and yellows swirling over the rock. They reminded Tosca of images she’d seen of the Painted Desert back on Earth. 

Tosca focused on the view up ahead as they drew closer to what looked like a conclave of sturdy, fortified structures. “Those are shelters for the _xemna_ ,” Tulip commented, noticing where she was looking. “During the wet season, storms drive the herd closer to civilization. Makes it easier to brand and inoculate them.”

“Do the _lacerta_ stay there too?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from the window to stare at her boyfriend. 

Tulip was pretending to be indifferent but the nervous twitching of his mandibles and near-silent squeaks and subvocal chirps spoke volumes about his emotions. He’d already told her he didn’t want to visit his old neighborhood. When she’d pressed him, he’d softly admitted that dwelling on his childhood and parents’ deaths was too painful; like an old wound being ripped open. The _xemna_ range was where he had his fondest memories and what he truly wanted to share with her. 

“The _lacerta_ are kept a bit closer to the ranch house,” Tulip advised, shifting in his seat. 

“Are we renting one from your friend?” Tosca asked. 

“They’re animals, not vehicles,” he said looking at her with an amused expression. “Cabrius is letting us _borrow_ one for a week.”

“Too bad it’s not Sassy,” Tosca teased. “I would have liked to meet her.”

Tulip snorted. “Sassy probably died a long time ago." His mandibles flared as his eyes became distant. "She wasn’t exactly young when I was riding her, but she lived a full and happy life. For a _lacerta_ , anyway.”

Tosca hummed as Tulip drove past the _xemna_ shelters. They were notably vacant, the herd off grazing somewhere beyond sight. Tulip had told her that the goal was to reach the herd by nightfall and make camp. After that, they could do whatever she wanted since Tulip was still struggling to consider this trip a vacation. 

Veering off the main road, Tulip drove in the direction of what looked like a giant steel and timber loaf. The building sat low to the ground with a curved, serrated roof which looked like it was made to repel wind and rain. 

As they got closer, an arched doorway opened and a turian stepped outside. He was an older man with plates looking as weathered and beaten as desert sandstone. He sported the same jaunty yellow colony markings as Tulip, though the ink was faded and almost looked like a stain on his chin and mandibles. Tulip parked the skycar in front of the building’s entrance and the occupant hobbled over with the assistance of a wooden cane. 

“Tenzen!" The stranger greeted, left hand coming to his brow in an odd salute. "The child has flown outta ya!” 

“Cabrius!” Tulip raised his arm, mimicking the older man's greeting. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

Cabrius turned a pair of sulfur colored eyes to Tosca. His right iris was consumed by a pale, cloudy moon and Tosca doubted he could see anything out of it. “Ain't never seen a human ‘fore,” he greeted. His good eye darted around its socket, focusing on her hair, fingers, and feet. “Shorter ‘in I woulda thought,” he muttered seemingly to himself. 

“Cabrius, this is Tosca.” Tenzen told him, walking over to slip an arm around her waist. 

“I known who she is.” Cabrius waved off the introduction. “Ya went on ‘bout her for literal pages in yer message.”

“I wouldn’t say _pages_ ,” Tulip defended, but Cabrius had stepped up to Tosca and, after some apparent thought, gave her a polite bow. 

“Pleasure ta meet ya,” he said. “Any love of Tenzen’s is a'ight in my mind.”

Tosca smiled, bowing back in the customary turian greeting. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you so much for letting us come see your ranch.”

Cabrius made a whistling sound through his nose as he nodded toward another building behind what was clearly his house. “I don’t get why ya wanna spend your leave here, but I ain’t one to complain ‘bout free help. There’s a pair ‘o _lacerta_ in there. Take one or both, makes no difference to me.” 

Tosca felt the air grow heavy with subvocals as Tulip and Cabrius held a private discussion - probably about the _lacerta_. Tosca glanced around them. The grass had been sheared down in a large circle around the main dwelling, but even so, an odd scraping sound could be heard on the warm breeze. It took her a moment to realize the noise was being caused by the teal blades of grass sawing against each other. 

Tulip loudly cleared his throat, neck flushed a deep cobalt blue as Cabrius let out a full belly laugh, mandibles splaying wide to reveal he was missing several teeth. 

“Remember that, boy!” He called out as Tulip grabbed Tosca by the hand and led her toward what she supposed was a barn. “Don’t waste time in thinkin'!”

“Thinking about what?” Tosca asked as they stepped inside the squat building. She gasped as a giant monitor lizard leaned its head over a low wooden gate. Red eyes with pin-prick pupils sized her up before a long, thin, purple tongue darted out and flicked against her shoulder. 

Tosca instinctively backed away, colliding with Tulip’s chest. He placed a hand on her shoulder, a soft purr to his vocals before stepping forward. The whirring thrum he made in his subharmonics was a sound Tosca had never heard before, but the _lacerta_ seemed to know what it meant. The creature backed away from the gate, cocking its head at Tulip as its tongue darted out again to scent the air. 

Tulip glanced down to where some type of script had been carved into the wood of the gate. “This is Mellow,” he told her. 

A huffing sound next door had Tosca peering around Tulip to gaze into another stall. The _lacerta_ inside had scales like flattened pebbles, with streaks of white cutting through the mottled grey coloration of its hide. “And that’s Celer,” Tulip noted. “They’re both males.”

Tosca walked closer, head swinging between the two stalls as she admired the animals. Something primal whispered that these were predators and she ought to keep her distance. A louder, more familiar voice suggested she pet one.

“Well, which one should we take?” Tulip asked, breaking her from the trance she’d fallen into. “I’d prefer not to have both.”

“Would we be riding double?” Tosca asked. At Tulip’s nod she felt her brow furrow, recollections of childhood research into horses rushing back. “That’s not good for horses - riding double for a long time. Is it different for _lacerta?_ ”

“I don’t know about horses, but _lacerta_ are built sturdy.” Tulip answered, leaning against the side of the stall. “They can carry two or three riders for days without an issue.”

That was convenient, Tosca thought. No need to worry about the amount of luggage and provisions they’d brought with them. Leaning forward, she admired the giant lizards with an appraising eye. Mellow poked his head over the gate again while Celer remained stationed toward the back of his stall. “Mellow seems friendlier?” she offered.

“I dunno ‘bout that,” Tulip responded with a flick of his mandibles. His accent - so different from the other turians she’d met - sounded thicker and she grinned at the notion that he was back among his people. 

“Should we take the other one then?” she asked.

“They’re probably both jus’ as ornery,” Tulip replied as he reached down to unhook Mellow’s gate. The _lacerta_ cautiously flicked its tongue against Tulip’s face before a large, black and white foot with four scythe-like claws stepped out of the pen. 

Tulip hummed to the beast, encouraging it to walk forward. He then slipped some type of halter over its head and neck while the _lacerta_ waited politely. Tosca slowly reached out a hand. “Will he bite me?” she asked, hand hovering above the creature’s hide.

“He better not,” Tulip replied, a warning growl in his vocals. “Now that he’s away from his stall he oughta be fine to pet. _Lacerta_ are territorial,” he added, sensing Tosca’s confusion.

Tosca let her hand rest on Mellow’s shoulder. His speckled hide was rough under her palm but not without give. The pebbled scales felt like smooth stones as she ran her fingers against them in a petting motion. 

Mellow made a soft huff, tongue flicking out into Tosca’s hair which she’d pinned up in a bun. Tulip chuckled. “I think Mellow’s the one,” he announced. He made a series of clucking noises before tugging on the halter and leading their mount toward the door. Mellow had a wide, swaggering gait, his long tail dragging lazily behind him. 

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Tosca called as she trotted after Tulip. “Let’s climb on!”

“In a minute,” Tulip assured, tying the rope from the halter to a large wooden beam. “First, we need ta load our stuff into saddle packs.”

Tosca watched as Tulip expertly transferred their supplies into large, worn-looking satchels. He then slung a thick blanket over Mellow’s back before a heavy looking, ‘U’ shaped saddle. When the _lacerta_ was finally equipped for their journey, Tosca eagerly ran over to him. She gave his flank a pat before trying to decide how to climb up. 

“Not yet,” Tulip said from behind her, voice sounding muffled. She turned to see he’d pulled off the tunic he’d been wearing and replaced it with what looked like a crimson, wool tank-top. It left his cowl almost entirely exposed, with his bold yellow tattoos on prominent display. He then pulled an odd, black shawl over his head, the fabric hanging loosely near his lateral fringe spines. 

“Is that typical _xemna_ hand attire?” It looked… weird. _So_ weird. Is that what human cowboy wear looked like to turian eyes?

“Yup,” Tulip nodded before spreading his arms. “How do I look?”

“Interesting.”

Tulip chuffed. “Not exactly a resounding endorsement.”

“I’ve just never seen you dress like this,” she replied as he offered her his cupped hands for a boost onto Mellow’s back. 

“Best get used to it then.” He grinned up at her before bending down and picking up one of Mellow’s feet. He carefully twisted it in a gentle circle several times before setting it down and repeating the action with the other legs. 

Tosca watched, wondering if he was stretching out the joints like one would for a horse before riding. When he’d finished his treatment, Tulip gave Mellow a quick look over before nodding. Grabbing a hold of the saddle, he hauled himself up behind Tosca. “ _Umph_. I’m a bit heavier than I used to be,” he muttered. He grabbed the lead-rope and leaning over, unclipped it. He then attached a pair of thick, black reins to the back of Mellow's halter. Twisting them in his hand, he made a subvocal click to their mount. 

The _lacerta_ lumbered out of the barn, tongue perpetually tasting the air. Tulip directed Mellow to walk in a few large circles before pointing the animal toward the tall grass of the range. “Hold on to the saddle horn,” Tulip advised. Tosca did as instructed only for Tulip to admonish “hold on tighter.” 

She clutched the leather horn so hard her knuckles went white. Satisfied with her grip, Tulip made a series of barking noises with his main voice. Mellow took off like a bullet from a gun, long neck outstretched as he ran. The grass parted in their wake as Mellow’s heavy footfalls filled the air. 

Tosca let out a whoop of excitement as wind whipped past her face, making her eyes water. Now _this_ was a dream vacation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the holiday cheer to S0me_Writer for beta reading and giving me helpful pointers on horseback riding. =)


	20. The Little House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lacerta - large, reptilian-like creatures turians used as mounts back in their early civilization. Still utilized on some agrarian colony worlds.
> 
> xemna - the turian equivalent of cattle.
> 
> Racun - a nocturnal, scavenging creature similar to a raccoon, though with copper-colored, chitinous plates instead of fur. 
> 
> Amicae – the turian version of a girlfriend or exclusive significant other.
> 
> Mallum - a small, sweet fruit similar to an apple.
> 
> Sorgan - a spicy herb akin to sage.

They’d reached the _xemna_ herd as twilight reached its inky fingers down into the grass, the sky awash in violet as stars blinked into life. Tenzen had immediately set to work building a fire and making camp. He’d turned Mellow loose to hunt for vermin and birds on the environs of the herd, secure the _lacerta_ wouldn’t wander too far from its adopted ‘pack.’ 

Tosca had immediately been smitten with the _xemna_ calves and Tenzen had managed to lure one close enough for her to pet. “It’s so cute!” she cooed, hands caressing the young animal’s face, tugging at the rolls of hide that draped over its floppy ears. “Tulip, take a picture of me with it!”

He snapped a few holos before handing the drone over to her so he could start cooking dinner. Some type of canned thing for Tosca and _xemna_ loin for himself. As he worked, Tosca continued to babble to the calf, telling it how adorable it was and commenting on its various ‘cute’ attributes. He chuckled. This was a work trip so far as he was concerned. He’d told Cabrius they’d monitor the herd and omni-brand any new calves. But, Tosca’s enthusiasm was infectious, and once he’d rolled out their sleeping bags and eaten supper, he fell easily into telling her about his adventures on the range as a young man. 

“There’s not many creatures that’d dare come near a sleeping _lacerta_ , but this _racun_ was especially daring,” he told her, head resting on his sleeping roll, an arm wrapped around Tosca’s shoulders. “I watched it carefully measure its steps as it approached Sassy and the _xemna_ bone she’d been gnawing on. It got right within sniffing distance of her claws before she suddenly snapped to life, grabbed it in her jaws, shook it like a doll and then flung it several feet away!” He laughed at the memory of the _racun_ stumbling to its feet and running off with a drunken, shocked gait. 

Tosca giggled, her body pressed against his with her head resting on his chest. Now _this_ was a vacation. Relaxing around a fire with embers dancing in the night breeze, Pons’ twin moons glowing overhead as he held his most treasured friend and love in his arms. 

The pull toward Tosca had long since become a tether, his bond unshakable. He was fully committed, despite not signing any official paperwork. Cabrius had picked up on this immediately. 

_“Ya best make those feelings legal,”_ the old man had advised. _“I ain’t never seen a human ‘fore but this one seems like a keeper. Yer actually happy fer once - I know she’s the reason. Don’t overthink it, jus ask ta mark her.”_

Cabrius made bonding seem so simple. Maybe it had been for him. He and his mate were together for nearly seventy years before death separated them. But there was no guarantee that Tenzen wouldn’t have the same experience as his mothers. In the end, they despised each other. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling anything but devotion for Tosca, but nearly half human bondings - marriages - ended in failure. What if she woke up one morning and decided she didn’t want him anymore? A soft keen escaped his throat.

“Tulip, is something wrong?” Tosca lifted her head to stare down at him, concern written in her furrowed brows and down-turned mouth. 

“No, sorry, I was just… thinking about my mothers.” It wasn’t a complete lie. They were the reason his mind had wandered into the quagmire of _‘what-ifs.’_

“Do you miss them?” Tosca asked softly, a thumb rising to caress his ocular plating.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, relaxing under her touch. “More so I miss the good memories I had with them.” He sighed. There were good memories - tons of them in fact. But they were hard to find, having been buried under the year-long divorce that finally ended his childhood. He’d spared them a custody action. He’d run away after an afternoon filled with poisonous vid-calls and then Felan asking him who he loved more, her or Calpurnia. Thankfully, Cabrius had offered him sanctuary on the range.

“We could see them while we’re here?” Tosca offered.

Tenzen’s eyes shot open and he turned to stare at her. “See them? As in, _visit_ them?” He hadn’t spoken to either of his mothers in person since he was sixteen. There were still vid-chats and an occasional call, but he’d walled them out of his life. 

“If you wanted.” Tosca shrugged a shoulder. “I know their divorce was awful for you and they used you like a pawn. But, I can tell you still care about them. Maybe you could get some closure.”

“How?” he asked, pushing up onto an elbow. “By venting and telling them what terrible people they were?” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “There’s nothing to be gained from seeing them. And I don’t want them to-” he cut off, realizing the real reason he didn’t want to see his mothers. “I haven’t told them about you,” he confessed. “I figured my happiness wasn’t theirs to ruin.” 

Tosca watched him, eyes illuminated by their campfire, reflections of sparks shining in the swirling greens and amber of her irises. “Will they hate me because I’m a human?”

“I don’t actually know,” he admitted. “They just… destroyed all that was good in my life with their divorce. I don’t want them to…” He drifted off, unsure how to voice his concerns. 

“They won’t drive me away,” Tosca supplied. She rested one of her many-fingered hands over his much larger one. “My father doesn’t like that I’m with a turian. He had more than a few colorful remarks when I told him.” She pressed her fingers between his, squeezing tightly. “He can’t change how I feel about you, though. And nothing your mothers could say or do will make me love you any less either.” She smiled, though it wasn’t one that exposed her teeth. It was the soft, easy pull of her lips, the special, quiet promise she only gave to him. 

“Come here.” His voice was thick with emotion, vocals trembling with discordant notes of grief, fear, and yearning. Tosca moved into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. He held her, sure at some points he could hear the alien rhythm of her heartbeat. He’d find courage, he promised himself. And he’d wear Tosca’s mark. If the spirits were kind, one day, she’d wear his, too. 

**********

The Pons grasslands were the type of peace Tosca had only ever read about in books. She woke up every morning to skies bluer than any on earth, the chorus of birds and lowing of _xemna;_ a soft symphony to her day. Being out in the vastness of nature had a way of focusing your perspective on things. Her world consisted of swaying grass, herself, and Tulip. 

They’d already made more than a few memories she’d hold on to forever. Sex out in the open, cloaked by the Pons night sky was definitely an experience she wouldn’t soon forget. Tulip’s three-fingered hands burrowing down into the dirt as he thrust into her from behind, his vocals filling the air. Laying in a heaving, breathless heap, knotted together, and Mellow waddling over to sniff them, much to Tulip’s consternation. 

But Tulip was happy here. He hummed in his vocals throughout the day and serenaded her with country songs. _Home on the Range_ was his favorite at the moment. Hearing it sung in duel vocals as they rode Mellow through the prairie, exploring and taking photographs never ceased to make her grin. 

The only time Tulip seemed pensive or anxious was when they discussed visiting his mother in Herban. Calpurnia still lived in the house Tulip had once shared with both his mothers and he had hesitantly made lunch plans with her for their final day on Pons. Tosca wasn’t sure how much he’d told his mom about his human girlfriend, but if he was willing to introduce Tosca then the reception mustn’t have been too terrible. 

She wondered how her own parents would handle meeting Tulip. Well, her father was out of the question, but her mom and step-dad, while suspicious, genuinely wanted her to be happy. If that joy was found in the arms of a turian, so be it. Her sisters were more curious than anything else. They’d like him though. Tulip was sweet and caring and attentive. What wasn’t to love?

“So, tomorrow’s it,” Tulip stated soberly as they lay snuggled together inside a sleeping bag. 

“You act like going to see your mom is a suicide mission,” Toca replied, curling in closer to him. 

Tulip pressed his face against the top of her head. “Maybe it is,” he said, voice muffled. 

“We don’t have to go,” Tosca reminded him, a finger idly tracing over the tattoos on his chest plates. “I’ll support you no matter what you want to do.”

“I know.” He glanced away, mandibles pulling against his face. “I already said we’d come. I don’t want to back out now. She’s… excited to meet you.” 

“Really?”

“So she says.” He flicked his left mandible out in feigned disinterest. The soft whine echoing in his chest told another story. 

“Are you excited to see her at all?” Tosca asked. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” he acknowledged, eyes focusing on her once more. “I’m not sure how to feel - she and Felan took me in after my parents… after my biological parents died. I thought I’d live in that shitty orphanage until I turned fifteen, but they saved me.” His eyes became distant as Tulip journeyed into the forests of memory, grip around Tosca’s waist tightening, as though to ground himself. “I was eight years old when my parents… my dad and mom died in a shuttle crash. I remember some men in uniforms coming to my school. I got pulled out of class and one of them told me that there was an accident.” 

Tosca cupped Tulip’s face, bringing her forehead to press against his brow. Tulip took a shuddering breath. “I can’t remember much from that day. I think I was in too much shock. I ended up at the orphanage though, once everyone figured out I had no other family members able or willing to care for me.” 

“You weren’t there for long,” Tosca breathed. He’d told her he was eight when his mothers had adopted him. That meant he’d only been at the orphanage for a year - maybe less. Though _‘only’_ probably wasn’t a word to use when describing what must have been an eternity to him. 

“Calpurnia and Felan came through the door one day and saw me taking pictures of flowers. My camera was one of the few things from home I took with me.” Tulip’s voice was deep and dark, but there was a bright note to it as he recalled meeting his mothers. How they’d talked to him, given him more attention than any other adults. How they brought him to their home, a place filled with light and flowers - Calpurnia bred and sold exotic flower bulbs. He’d belonged again, felt safe. 

Tosca pressed a chaste kiss to Tulip’s mouth. “Divorce can turn good people into monsters,” she told him softly, recalling how bitter her own parents had been immediately after separating. “But, I think they both love you and always will.”

Tulip buried his face in the crook of her neck, squeezing her even harder. She cradled the back of his head until he drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning they bid farewell to the _xemna_ and rolling grasslands, riding Mellow back to Cabrius’ ranch. Tosca had given their loyal mount a kiss on the snout when Tulip wasn’t looking. She wasn’t sure whether he was typical for a _lacerta_ , but he was decidedly a good boy in her opinion. 

They repacked their skycar and drove back toward civilization and the country town of Herban. Tulip was markedly quiet as they drove. It wasn’t until they were within sight of a cube-like building that he stoically announced, “here.” 

“You lived here?” Tosca pressed her face closer to the window, breath fogging up the glass. “It’s smaller than I imagined.”

“Most of the homes in Herban are small. The people prefer to be outdoors, tending to livestock or crops.” Tulip couldn’t seem to decide what to do with his hands and settled for wringing them in his lap as they sat parked in front of a large garden. 

The flowers were unlike any she’d ever seen. The petals had an iridescence to them and looked like precious gems clustered around silver and gold stems. Hues of ruby, emerald, topaz and sapphires sparkled in the morning sun, a natural treasury on display. 

“Your mom is a professional flower breeder?” Tosca asked, taking Tulip by the hand. “These are gorgeous.”

“Not a professional,” Tulip answered, seeming to gather his resolve. He squeezed her hand before climbing out of the vehicle, Tosca following suit. “She’s a secretary for the county agricultural department. This,” he made a sweeping gesture at the opulent garden that dwarfed the home. “This was - is - a hobby.”

A figure picked its way through the tall flowers and shrubs, materializing like some type of giant, alien, woodland nymph in front of them.

The turian woman had rust colored plates and was wearing what looked like a short, pink kilt — and nothing else.

She was heavily built for a turian and as Tosca admired the plates around her abdomen she noticed that they were split in some areas. Naturally armored as they were, obesity had the nasty side effect of cracking plates when the flesh had no other ability to expand outwards. It was an exceptionally painful occurrence that required sutures to correct.

At some point — not too recently given that the cracks in the plating had fused — Calpurnia must have been dangerously overweight.

“Tenzen!” Calpurnia’s hands flew to her mouth as excited chirps erupted from her subvocals. “Jus’ look at ya! Why, you’re a full grown man!” Her eyes, an arresting shade of robin’s egg blue, landed on Tosca. “And you must be Tosca! Aren’t you jus' prettier than all get out!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tosca greeted. She looked up at Tulip. His jaw was lolled open and his eyes were as huge as a landed fish. He stared at his mother in stunned silence. Absently, Tosca recalled an old human painting entitled _The Scream_ that she’d seen in a museum once.

Tulip shook his head, mandibles pinching tightly against his face. Tosca felt the air around her shiver with subharmonics as he said something to his mother. 

Calpurnia froze, a foot still outstretched to walk towards them before she glanced down at her outfit. “I thought it’d take you longer to get here,” she muttered apologetically. When she lifted her head her mandibles were still flared in a smile. “Well, let’s head indoors. I’ll change into something else and we can all have juice.”

“Juice?” Tulip’s brow plates sat heavily over his eyes in an expression of irritation and confusion. “Just juice?”

“It’s a new thing, Tenzen!” Calpurnia told him excitedly. “It’s actually a human invention,” she added to Tosca. “It’s called a juice cleanse. I started yesterday.”

She beckoned them to follow her as she turned and headed back into the flower jungle she’d emerged from. Tulip’s mouth was hanging open again as they trailed behind.

Inside the home was a tiny living area with a worn, green suede couch. Calpurnia gestured for them to take a seat before vanishing into another room. Tosca glanced around. In addition to the couch there was a small, ornately carved wooden table and two large display cases housing an assortment of crystal plaques and trophies. Tosca couldn’t read the script on them, but given that the images of flowers appeared on many, she wagered they were awards from flower shows. 

“She’s gained so much weight,” Tulip murmured, eyes focused on the door his mother had disappeared through. “She was always so obsessed with healthy eating… What happened?”

Tosca had no idea but was spared having to guess when Calpurnia reappeared, this time wearing a tight-fitting purple shirt and pants. She instructed them to remain seated while she brought out their juices. “Oh, Tosca honey, I made this one especially for you!” She placed a turian-style, cylindrical glass in front of Tosca. The thick, orange contents smelled suspiciously like carrots. 

“Tenzen, I used _mallum_ fruit and _sorgan_ for ours.” The drink she set in front of her son was a toxic-looking green that smelled faintly of citrus and salt water. 

Tulip stared at it before focusing an intense gaze onto his mother. “Calpurnia,” he said in a voice notably devoid of subvocals. “What happened?”

Calpurnia froze with her glass halfway to her mouth. With a heavy sigh, she set it down onto the table. “Regret is a powerful emotion,” she replied, eyes focused on her drink. “Everyone responds to it differently. For me, it created a void. I tried to fill it with food.” She looked up at them, mandibles flared in a caricature of a smile. “It didn’t work,” she snorted. “But, therapy did. I’ve actually lost a lot of weight over the last couple years.”

Tulip’s throat worked at swallowing something. “You’re okay though?” he asked.

“I am now,” Calpurnia assured, her mandibles rising out into a true grin. “And look, my son even came to visit me! With his pretty human _amicae_ too!” She turned to look at Tosca, eyes sparkling with happiness. “Honey, have you ever seen pictures of little Tenzen?” she inquired. 

The rest of their juice filled lunch was filled with laughter and stories of Tulip’s childhood. Tulip gradually relaxed, sinking into the couch cushions and chortling along with his mother, groaning when she presented Tosca with an omni-album full of holos of him as a fledgling. Before they knew it, three hours had passed and Tosca and Tulip needed to head for the spaceport. 

“Oh, do visit again soon!” Calpurnia implored, squeezing Tulip’s hand as they stood in the doorway. “I’ve loved seeing you - both of you.”

“It was wonderful getting to know you” Tosca replied with a polite bow and smile. 

“We’ll try to visit again,” Tulip promised. “It was good to see you too. Mom.” 

Calpurnia beamed, her face brighter than all the flowers of her garden. “My sweet boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks as always to S0me_Writer for beta reading. =)


	21. Because You're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - sexual content halfway through chapter.

He wasn’t precisely sure how, but a weight had been lifted off his chest since seeing his mother, one he hadn’t even realized was there until he noticed how much easier he was breathing. Tosca had asked him if he was going to contact Felan and, for the first time in years, he was actually looking forward to doing so. Perhaps time had likewise changed her for the better. 

“How often do you speak with your family?” he asked her as they lay curled up naked in his bed aboard the Steadfast. He loved these moments of intimacy; holding Tosca close, the feeling of her smooth, bare skin against his plates and hide. 

“I speak with my sisters pretty frequently.” Tosca answered, eyes still glued to her omni-tool where she was scrolling through pictures of their trip. She’d taken hundreds of photos of the _xemna_ calves. There were also holos of Mellow and himself. Most of them were candid and for reasons he didn’t fully understand, there were dozens of pictures of his ass, while he was bent over doing something. He snorted softly as he watched them blink by on her interface. 

“Your sisters are both married?” he inquired.

“Married with kids,” Tosca confirmed, closing her ‘tool and turning to smile up at him. 

“Your parents’ divorce didn’t discourage them from getting married?” 

“I don’t think so.” Tosca caressed the side of his face. “My parents…” she trailed off as she considered her words. “I’m not sure they ever should have gotten married in the first place. My mom got pregnant with Fatima after they’d only been dating for five months. They rushed to the altar, so to speak.” She shrugged her shoulders. “They never truly got to know each other before they were married with children to support. Totally different from us.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “I like to think I know you pretty well.”

Tenzen planted a gentle nip at her hairline. “You do,” he assured her. “Just like I know you enjoy drinking coffee in the morning with whole milk and a spoonful of sugar. You have your grandmother’s eyes and father’s nose.” He gently lifted her chin with a finger. “You’re kind and compassionate yet incredibly strong. You love old Western movies and _Shane_ makes you misty eyed every time.”

Tosca huffed, burrowing in closer to his side. “You’re such a sweetheart,” she murmured, a hand trailing down to trace over the intricate tattoos on his chest plates. “You must also know you’re the love of my life.”

Tenzen purred, his subvocals singing out contentment and adoration. “My love, do you ever… think about getting married?” 

Tosca’s hand stilled. Slowly, she leaned up on an elbow to look him in the face. “Are you asking if I want to marry you?”

 _Shit_. So far as proposals went, this had to be one of the worst. Humans liked grand, romantic gestures - so he’d read. He hadn’t even been planning to phrase his question that way, it had just tumbled out. He’d just wanted to make sure bonding was something she wanted too, before he made an idiot of himself. 

His vocals whined loudly before he managed to clamp down on them. “It’s, uh… You know what, forget I said anything.” He cleared his throat before giving her a forced grin. “So, what was your favorite thing about Pons?”

Tosca was staring at him in a way he couldn’t read, eyes intense and mouth slightly parted. “Tulip,” she said softly. “Do you want to marry me?”

His mouth became a desert, his tongue a parched riverbed. Words shriveled up before they could blossom into sentences and he stared back at her mutely. Stiffly, he nodded his head once. 

A smile bloomed across Tosca’s face, radiant and full. “Yes,” she told him in response to an unasked question. 

Tenzen opened his mouth only to shut it; a landed fish gasping for air. “Yes?” he parroted back, before swallowing the lump of anxiety in his throat. He was a Captain with the Hierarchy fleet damn it! Finding his resolve, he sat up in bed. “Tosca Sharif.” Taking Tosca’s tiny hand, he pressed it to his chest. “Will you be my bondmate?”

Tosca grabbed his face and pressed a blazing kiss to his mouth. He couldn’t help but gasp at the intensity of… _her_. The smell of her shampoo, the taste of honey lingering on her lips from her evening tea, the strength of her fingers locking onto his cowl, the feel of her tongue teasing his own. He shamelessly moaned, tangling a hand in her hair to hold her in place, wishing to never let go. “Yes, Tulip,” she whispered on shared breath. “I’ll be your bondmate, if you’ll be my husband.”

His vocals exploded in a chorus of excitement and joy. Tosca giggled as she pressed her smooth brow to his, hands cupping his face. “I love you,” he breathed. 

“I love you, too.” 

He was beyond words after that, intent on showing her what she meant to him. They could discuss ceremony and details later. Here, now, there was just their shared promise and the feeling of belonging. 

He rolled so he was on top of her, licking and nipping his way down her neck, chest, the taut plane of her stomach until he arrived at the juncture between her legs. The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils and he took a greedy inhale before flicking his eyes up to hers. Tosca’s own hazel irises were barely-visible rings around deep, black pools of desire. 

Languidly, he licked a hot trail up her slit. Tosca swore as her legs fell open. Gripping her thighs, Tenzen pressed his tongue inside her tight, warm heat, curling it before pulling out. Tosca gasped his name, a sense of desperation to the word that had his ego soaring even as his pelvic plates parted. 

Tenzen moved a thumb to swirl over the nub above Tosca’s entrance as he continued to slowly fuck her with his tongue. The deep growl of his subharmonics added vibrations, making Tosca’s inner walls flutter. She pushed herself against his mouth, needy whimpers spilling from soft lips as she encouraged him to quicken his pace. 

While there was a joy in teasing her, his own erection throbbed painfully between his legs, demanding attention. He pulled his tongue out, only to roughly lick her folds, the short, coarser pubic hairs a stark contrast to her soft, sodden flesh. 

Delving back inside, he picked up speed both with his tongue and the ministrations at her clit. Before long, Tosca came with a strangled cry, hips canting against him, hands clutching the bed sheets in a death grip. She slumped into the mattress even as he continued to rub her with a thumb. Her breasts rose and fell in time with her deep breathing as Tenzen licked a trail up her body, gently plucking a nipple between his mouth plates. 

“Fuck, Tulip!” Tosca gasped, arching into him as he ghosted a finger over her other breast, teasing her with phantom pressure before squeezing. Tosca’s hips rocked up, brushing against his member. He moaned, lowering himself to slide the ridged underside of his shaft against her wet, welcoming center. 

“Spirits, I need you!” he choked out over drumming vocals. “Please, Tosca, let me fuck you!”

“Fuck me, Tenzen! I want you inside me! Please, now!” Her hands fumbled blindly between them in an attempt to align him with her cunt. 

Sitting back, mindful of his spurs, Tenzen lifted her legs so her feet were just inside his cowl. Human flexibility was incredible, he thought hazily as he pushed inside her. _Spirits_ she was always so tight! And warm and wet and “yes!” he sobbed as he fully seated himself. After indulging in a moment to just _feel_ her, he pulled out a few inches before roughly pushing back. “ _Spirits of Pons,_ yes!”

Tosca screamed out a litany of swears and his name as he pounded into her. The air became heavy with the smell of their combined arousal. Mouth open as he panted, Tenzen could almost taste it; something familiar yet unmistakably alien. He was so drunk on the smell and sensation of his cock pumping into Tosca’s wetness that he almost didn’t hear her question.

“Wha, what?” he asked, eyes opening to stare down at her even as he kept moving.

“Mark me!” Tosca gasped, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her brow, eyes dark and pleading. “Please, mark me, Tenzen.”

He froze. He’d never actually asked if he could mark Tosca as his mate during his bumbling proposal. It was implied though. For him, at least. Did she even understand what it entailed?

Absently he ground against her, sparks of pleasure still racing down his spine. “Do you know -”

“I’ve researched it,” Tosca breathed, a smile in her words. “Turian bondmarks and their social and cultural implications. I guess I’ve been thinking about marriage - bonding for awhile now.”

He wouldn’t deny that he’d looked into human marriage rituals too. But there was so much variation that he’d given up trying to figure out which one Tosca would like. He’d hoped that when they reached that point - _this_ point - she’d just tell him which she preferred. 

“If you’re sure, then I’d love to mark you,” he answered, vocals swelling. He stared at the juncture where her shoulder met the column of her neck. The place where his jaw and unique dentition would forever claim her as his mate. 

“How do we do it?” Tosca asked. “I’ve seen bondmarks on turian patients, but do you just bite me or is there a ritual involved?”

Tenzen reluctantly pulled from the warm embrace of her cunt to sit with his back against a pile of pillows. “Come here,” he beckoned. 

Tosca crawled onto his lap, stroking him once before sinking back down onto his cock. Tenzen’s eyes rolled back in his head at the feeling of being sheathed once more. Forcing them open, he gently brushed the loose hair off her shoulder. “There’s no ritual - not anymore anyway. I mark you here,” he ran a blunted talon reverently along the curve of her neck. “And you do the same.” He paused, recalling something he’d read on human marriage traditions. “It’s like a more permanent wedding ring,” he offered by way of explanation. 

“I like that,” Tosca said, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Tenzen purred, hands finding her hips. “First, I want you to cum,” he whispered, moving inside her. Tosca gasped before gripping his shoulders and rising onto her knees. Their movements were languid as they sought to rekindle the passion from earlier, a gradual build up, like water being pulled into a wave before it crested. 

As the rhythm of their hips increased its tempo, Tenzen pressed Tosca closer against his chest. Her eyes were shut and mouth parted. She arched her neck exposing more skin to him and Tenzen allowed the more primitive, predatory part of his brain take control. Flexing his mandibles down and out, he positioned his mouth over his smaller partner, even as he thrust into her harder. 

He gripped Tosca’s ass, spreading her legs so he could hit deeper. She came with a series of winded cries, body going rigid. Tenzen bit down, feeling warm blood flood his mouth coupled with the tang of copper on his tongue. He pumped into her twice more before his subvocals were roaring out his own release, the base of his cock knotting them together. Carefully, he released Tosca’s neck, staring down at the puncture marks left behind on her olive skin. 

It was a work of art. Amadeus could only aspire to create something so beautiful; the perfect expression of love and devotion imprinted in his mate’s flesh. 

Tosca made a whimpering sound. Her expression was one of agony as she moved a hand to hover above the fresh mark. She didn’t touch it, even as tears leaked from her eyes. 

Humans had far thinner, softer skin than turians. Marking did hurt from what he’d heard, but…

“Are you alright?” he asked, hearing the keen in his vocals even as he tried to suppress them. Hurting her hadn’t been his intent at all. 

What had he done?

“Yes,” Tosca whispered, taking a deep breath and giving him a shaky, yet genuine smile. “Tulip, I’m fine. I want this. It just hurt more than I expected.” 

“I hurt you…”

“Listen to me.” Warm, strong hands held his face firmly, forcing him to look at her. “Yes, this hurt.” Tosca pressed her forehead against his, hazel eyes pinning him in place. “But it was worth it. I wanted you to mark me. I love the cultural significance to the act and want everyone to know you’re my husband.” She glanced towards his personal washroom. “I packed a medical kit for our trip. I’ve got bandages and painkillers and medigel. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be fine.”

He still felt wretched for causing her pain, but her words helped soothe the sting. In an echo of their fated trip from the bridge to his quarters, Tenzen held her firmly against him as he rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom. He sat her on the vanity, grabbing her bag off the back of the toilet. 

Once he had helped her apply a bandage, she took some kind of pills for the pain and gave him an eager look. “Your turn,” she informed. “Though, this experience has me thinking I should apply something to your hide to soften the skin. My teeth aren’t as sharp as yours.” She bared them at him before reaching into her expansive medical kit. She withdrew a topical ointment and rubbed it over his neck, giving a satisfied nod when she’d finished. 

She grabbed a larger bandage from the bag before wrapping her hands around his neck licking his left mandible prong. “Now, where were we?”

Excited at the prospect of having a matching bondmark, Tenzen quickly walked them back to the bed, resuming his recumbent position against the pillows. He rocked against Tosca, his cock twitching from where he was still buried inside her. Tosca gasped, grinding down onto his pelvis. Their movements became quicker and more frantic. Tenzen panted as he was overtaken by waves of pleasure, his body in a constant state of euphoria.

“Now,” he told her in a strangled voice. “Do it now, it’s so good!”

Without hesitation, Tosca positioned her mouth over the place where his neck met his cowl. He felt pressure - a _lot_ of pressure - but whatever she’d put on him to soften the hide apparently also acted as a numbing agent. When she released him, he was left with a dull throbbing sensation. Her lips and chin were stained a deep cobalt blue as she admired her work. 

She reached for large bandage she’d carried with her from the washroom, but Tenzen caught her wrist. “I wanna see first,” he explained, pulling up his omni-tool and reversing its camera. The mark was a small oval composed of tiny squares; Tosca’s devotion and promise to stand beside him. He’d never tire of looking at it, even as he allowed Tosca to bandage his neck. Knowing the mark was there beneath the cotton white dressings was enough to make his chest swell with pride.

Once his knot had gone down and they’d separated, they set about handling the legal details of their union. The documents were surprisingly easy. They each downloaded and filled out the marriage and bonding forms for their respective races, applying a scanned thumbprint and signature for verification. They only needed to appear at a Citadel Courthouse and have a magistrate sign off on their union for everything to be completed. 

“Tulip?” Tosca asked from where she was lying on her stomach near the end of the bed. “Do turians change their surnames when they get married - bond?”

“Some do,” Tenzen answered, moving to lie beside her, propped up on his elbows. “Historically, the lower tiered spouse took the surname of the higher ranking partner. Why do you ask?”

Tosca bit her lower lip before looking at him shyly. “If I wanted to take Vallokius as a last name, would that be okay?”

His heart froze in his chest before throwing itself almost painfully against his rib cage. He hadn’t even considered asking Tosca to share his name - the one thing he’d kept from his biological parents. The idea of it unifying them together as a solid front, a team, was something he now decidedly wanted. 

“More than okay,” he told her, voice suddenly hoarse. “Do humans typically change their names when they bond?”

“Customarily a human woman would take her husband’s name - though that’s fallen out of fashion in recent decades.” She tucked a stray lock of mahogany hair behind her ear. “I’ve always liked _‘Vallokius’_ though, and like the idea of us sharing a last name. Making it obvious we’re a couple.”

“I like that too,” he nodded. 

Tosca grinned as she filled in the name change section of her documents. _Tosca Vallokius._ It sounded good. Not just good, _right._ He trilled happily when she finished and submitted the forms. She kissed his nose before rolling out of bed and headed for the washroom.

“I thought humans had a party of some type to celebrate their marriages?” Tenzen called to her, remembering things he’d read on the subject. Tosca reappeared from the bathroom wearing one of his tunics. 

She shrugged her unmarked shoulder. “Wedding receptions can be anything,” she told him. “My oldest sister had a massive wedding and reception - I’ve never seen her so stressed out. I always knew that wasn’t for me.” She lifted the fresh bed sheet, coming to cuddle up next to him. “My other sister, Najat, eloped. Basically she and her husband did the same thing we’re doing,” she explained. “Seemed like a better way to go.”

Tenzen pulled her into his arms with a purr. “There’s nothing else you’d like to do to commemorate our union?” he asked, wanting to be sure he complied with any human traditions since she’d so willingly embraced those of his people. 

Tosca hummed. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a ring. And maybe a house party with friends after we finish all the official paperwork?”

“I read about rings!” Tenzen exclaimed. “I wasn’t sure if your culture used them though. Some examples of betrothal called for gifts of livestock.” 

Tosca laughed, her eyes full of light. “No cattle, please,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a ring.”

Jewelry, he could do that. He’d find Tosca something perfect for her personality; nothing too gaudy but unique and bright. Koza’s _amicae_ wore rings, maybe Walter knew a good jeweler. 

“When should we tell everyone?” he asked as he dimmed the room’s lights.

“Tomorrow,” Tosca answered with a yawn. “Tonight’s just about us.” That sounded fine to him. _Us._ The Vallokius.’ Yeah, that sounded damn fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to S0me_Writer for beta reading =)


	22. Mixed Reviews

Their friends had been ecstatic when they’d shared the news. Alma and Trella had all but demanded to plan the reception - a dinner party at Eeju’s place since it was the largest. Tosca had easily agreed, though she felt her excitement start to churn in her stomach and morph into nausea as she pulled up her mother’s contact information on her omni-tool. 

Her mom knew about Tulip - knew he was a turian, a fleet Captain in the Hierarchy, and that Tosca loved him. She’d seemed alright with the relationship if not a bit dismissive. Tosca had a tendency to date what an aunt had once referred to as _‘exotic men.’_ Never anyone from her home country - or even Europe for that matter. Surely Tulip was the most unique by far. Tosca suspected that no one in her immediate family thought the relationship would lead to anything serious. 

She stared at the holo image of her mom that accompanied her number. There was a quiet, proud smile in her mother’s eyes whenever she looked at her daughters. It was something Tosca had never noticed as a child, but as an adult, her attention was immediately drawn to it. Privately, she admitted her deepest fear was for that bright spark to vanish. 

She glanced at the door of Tulip’s quarters. He was in the ship’s mess, getting himself breakfast. This was the best opportunity she had for a private call. Sighing, she pressed the call icon. Whatever Sophie Sharif-Arnold _really_ thought about Tosca’s former boyfriend turned spouse was about to be public knowledge. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” her mother greeted. Despite her age, her mom’s face held a perpetual blush which the fire glowing in the background only served to highlight. It was late in Amsterdam - at least 10:00 at night. But her mother had always been something of a night-owl. Her mom’s mouth crinkled into a loving smile, echoed in her honey-colored eyes. 

“Hey, mom,” Tosca greeted, striving to be casual. “Got a minute to talk?”

“Of course,” came the quick answer. “I’m just relaxing with a book before bed. How are things going for you?”

“Good,” came Tosca’s knee-jerk response. Squaring her shoulders, she gave her mom a hopeful look. “More than good, actually. Things are amazing at the moment.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Her mother canted her head to the side, light and shadows playing across her face, illuminating her eyes. 

“Tul- Tenzen proposed to me last night,” Tosca answered in a rush of breath. “I said yes.”

There was a thick pause as Tosca waited for a response. Her mother’s eyes had gone wide and her mouth fell open as she stared back at her child across light-years of space and stars. 

“He… proposed?” her mother repeated, as though checking to ensure she’d heard correctly. 

“Yeah,” Tosca nodded, a smile flickering across her face at the memory. “We decided to elope. We’ve already filed most of the paperwork. We’re going to have a small reception on the Citadel in a few galactic weeks- nothing too fancy, just an intimate dinner at a friend’s house.”

“I see.” Her mother opened and closed her mouth twice before speaking again. “Honey, are you sure this is what you want? Turian culture is so… different from ours. You can’t even eat the same food.” A hand came to rub at an eye but Tosca couldn’t tell if her mom was weeping or the gesture was merely a nervous tick. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your own happiness for someone else, is all.”

“Turian culture is different from humans,” Tosca conceded. “But, we have more in common than the media lets on.” She leaned forward, as though the action could physically place her in the small family living room with her mother; allow her to hold her mom’s hands in hers, gaze into those amber eyes, make her understand. “Turians have a deep familial commitment, just like we do. They love their partners and children, have similar hopes and dreams for a bright future.” Tosca rested her hands on her knees where she sat cross legged on Tulip’s bed. “Tenzen isn’t making me sacrifice anything to be with him,” she said earnestly. “He makes me happy, mom. He’s my person.”

“If this is what you want…”

“It is,” Tosca readily assured. “He’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then, I’m happy for you,” her mother replied, a soft, if somewhat sad smile lingering on her lips, though her eyes still shone brightly as ever. “I hope Tenzen will be a loyal and supportive husband. I’d love to meet him in person one day.”

”I’d like that too,” Tosca agreed. “I know money is tight right now, but maybe you could come visit us?”

“I would love to see the Citadel some day,” her mother sighed as she leaned back into the couch cushions. “Maybe after we’ve finished the kitchen renovation.” She looked contemplative for a moment, mouth drawing into a thin line. “Have you told your father?” she asked.

Tosca felt like a black hole had materialized in her spleen, sucking everything into it - her courage, hope, and joy. “Not yet.” She bit her lower lip. “He… he’s furious I am - was - dating a turian. I haven’t spoken with him in awhile - I think he’s hoping I’ll eventually tell him that Tenzen and I broke up.” Her shoulders slumped as she stared at her lap. 

“Your life is not his to dictate or live,” her mother said, voice surprisingly firm. “You’ve found your person after dating for over a year and living together. Tenzen’s species alone isn’t an excuse for your father to hate him.” 

Tosca felt her brows raise at the proclamation. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about this.”

Her mother exhaled a loud huff of air. “Before the turians, your father complained about different races among humanity. So long as there’s an _‘other’_ out there, he finds a reason to dislike them.” Shaking her head, amber eyes pinned Tosca in place. “I wasted too much time indulging or ignoring his bigotry. It’ll be up to him what type of relationship he wants with you - and Tenzen. Don’t shirk from your morals just because he’s an ass.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Tosca nodded. It would be more complicated than her mother was making it seem. She was a daughter, not an ex-spouse. Still, some familial support was nice. “Thanks, mom,” Tosca said softly before the conversation drifted to happier topics. 

She’d called her sisters afterwards. Najat and Fatima lived in a different hemisphere than their mother and were both awake. Najat was happy for her, though her middle sibling had always found Tulip fascinating in the same way a child seeing a giraffe for the first time is captivated. She’d even once asked him - during a vid-chat none-the-less - if his subharmonics were like a bat’s echolocation and if he could _‘hear shapes.’_ Fortunately, Tulip hadn’t been offended - just deeply confused. But Tosca was mortified, and had sent her sister as many resources on turian biology as she could find in the hopes that Najat could satisfy her curiosity without directly asking the source.

Fatima was more reserved in her approval, bringing up a subject both her mother and other sister had avoided. 

“I thought you wanted kids.” Fatima dropped the statement like a boulder into a still pool, the unspoken, accompanying sentiments rippling out from her words. 

“There’s more than one way to have children,” Tosca informed her, brows furrowing in irritation. “There’s adoption, in-vitro, surrogacy-”

“Yes, but in all those cases either you or Tenzen is left out of the genetic loop.” Fatima grimaced at her own wording before fixing Tosca with a sincere look. “I’m only bringing it up because I know having kids is something you’ve always planned on.” Fatima held her hands up in a gesture of pacification before Tosca could respond. “I don’t know how Tenzen feels about it, and before you say anything, it’s not my business, I know. I just... want you to be happy, Tosca.”

“If we decide to have children,” Tosca began, her prior aggravation simmering out, “and we both wanted to have our genes represented in a biological child, we could look into the Cheir program.”

“Oh! I’ve heard about that!” Fatima’s eyes lit up. “Not hybrids, but like, cloning one parent with genetic markers from the other parent spliced in?”

“That’s a super simplistic explanation, but yeah,” Tosca nodded. The Cheir program was newer, but had been around at least a few decades. Alma had first brought it to Tosca’s attention. Another nurse in the pediatric ward had been regaling coworkers with how she’d worked at a research hospital on Sur’Kesh and been present for the birth of a hanar-drell infant.

“It was a drell, like one of the fathers, but had pink scales like it’s other, hanar father.” Alma shook her head in amazement _._ “Scientific advancement is crazy. We had the ability before First Contact to make Cheirs - growing human ears on mice and allowing traits of same-sex couples to be expressed in one child - but man. Once the salarians got involved and having asari reproduction as a model…” she trailed off before shooting Tosca a shit eating grin _. “_ Something for you and Tenzen to consider one day? A little human girl with his eyes, maybe? _”_

“You and Tenzen would make gorgeous Cheirs,” Fatima declared, pulling Tosca back to their conversation. “Would you use an artificial womb if you decided to have a turian baby, or a surrogate?”

Tosca didn’t want to have this conversation right now. She was barely a newlywed and wanted to enjoy _that_ for a few years before discussing children - biological or otherwise. “I just got married, we’re not going to have kids any time soon,” she said with an air of finality. 

Blessedly, Fatima dropped the subject after that, seemingly appeased with the knowledge that her youngest sister and brother-in-law could have a biological child if they wanted. Discussion then turned to the reception and whether Fatima and her family could attend. Tentatively, it looked like at least her sister could make it, if not her husband and children. 

Tosca checked the time on her omni-tool after ending her call. She suspected Tulip was taking longer than usual to eat to give her some privacy, but he’d be back soon. It was now or never. If she didn’t tell her father herself, he’d hear about it from another family member and that would only make things worse.

Before she could second guess herself, she pulled up his contact and pressed the icon. 

**********

Tenzen stretched as he stood up from the table in the mess hall. Glancing at his omni-tool, he estimated he’d been there for nearly half a standard hour. His Executive Officer still technically had control of the ship since his personal leave wasn’t over for another galactic day. He walked aimlessly toward the bridge, though carried himself in a way that suggested he had a set destination and goal. Ensigns, specialists, and other crew members nodded to him as he passed, eyes flickering over the white bandage still covering his neck and fresh bondmark. 

He knew Tosca planned to call her family and tell them of their bonding and assumed she wanted privacy. Truth be told, he still had a family member to speak with and ought to do so privately as well. 

Veering from his previous course, he headed for the elevator. The cargo hold was large enough that he could have a conversation without people nearby. Once situated in an out-of-the-way corner, he pulled up Falen’s contact on his omni-tool. 

After her divorce, his other mother had moved to Altakiril. Despite the long, mild summers, even the lower latitudes of the planet were prone to freezing and ice storms. Considering that Falen had always reminded him of something sharp, with an ice-pick personality to match, it seemed fitting that she’d settled on a cold, often frozen world. 

His call was answered after one ring. “Tenzen.” Falen’s ruby red eyes betrayed little, though her subvocals warbled in surprise. “To what do I owe this communication?”

Right to the point, as usual, Tenzen thought. Unlike her former spouse who would shower Tenzen with nuzzles and sweets after a difficult day, Falen would hunt down the source of his sorrow and then threaten them with sepulchral vocals and a white-knife grin. He hadn’t endured many childhood bullies, despite his below average height.

A direct approach was best when confronted with the red frost in his mother’s gaze. She didn’t have the patience for needless pleasantries and he wasn’t about to concoct any. “Falen,” he greeted. “I wanted to call and tell you that I’ve become bonded.”

“Oh?” Falen’s nose plates twitched minutely as she processed this information. “To whom?”

“Her name is Tosca Sharif,” he informed her. “She’s a human nurse I met on the Citadel.”

Tenzen shivered despite the ambient temperature of the ship as he waited for Falen’s verdict on this news. 

“A human.” Falen repeated. “Might I ask _why_ a human, Tenzen?” She sighed loudly, cutting him off before he could answer. “I follow your career, you know. You’ve done well for yourself, even after your… accident.” Her slate colored mandibles flicked out in a brief show of emotion before she continued. “Your rank and tier have surely presented you with other bondmate candidates. Tell me truthfully: have you settled?”

Tenzen’s hands curled into fists at his side. “Tosca is an amazing woman. I’m honored she wants me for a mate.” He barely managed to repress his furious subharmonics. “Her species has nothing to do with my affection and should be irrelevant to you as well.” 

“It should, hmm?” Falen looked contemplative, eyes glancing away for a moment. “Have you told Calpurnia about this yet?”

Tenzen knew a trap when he saw one. Unfortunately, this particular trap was unavoidable. Falen was sure to be offended he’d told his other mother first. And lying about it was a meritless notion.

“I have,” he acknowledged, deciding to leave out he’d actually visited her too. “She approves.”

Falen snorted. “She would. She always did trust people too easily. That’s just plain naive and the reason why we had our credit accounts hacked on _four_ separate occasions. _Four,_ Tenzen.” Falen made a guttural sound of disgust before rolling her head in exasperation. 

“Mom’s financial mistakes have nothing to do with my bonding,” Tenzen bit out. 

“Oh, so she’s _‘mom’_ again is she?” Falen’s face leaned closer to the screen. “Is it true she’s gotten so fat that she’s splitting plates?” 

“I’m not doing this!” Tenzen boomed, no longer caring if anyone heard. “I told you when I left home, I wasn’t going to be your spy anymore!” His vocals raged in a chorus of hurt and frustration. “This isn’t about Calpurnia or even you, it’s about _me!_ Me bonding, me having a mate. If you can’t accept Tosca based solely on her race, then it’s your loss!”

“Calm down, Tenzen.” Falen waved her hand dismissively. “I apologize for talking about Calpurnia. Better now?”

“No!”

“Well, I don’t know what you want from me then,” she informed him. “If being with a human makes you happy, then I’m glad. You could do better, but if this is what you want, then congratulations.” 

Tenzen felt his mandibles flare as he bared his teeth at Falen in a display of unadulterated rage. “There’s nothing better then Tosca and I won’t have you insulting her! I’m bonded and I’m happy! I can only hope that this information will be enough for you to live on since I won’t ever be calling again!”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Falen commanded. “I…” she trailed off, looking unsure. “I’m sorry, Tenzen. Truly, if you’re happy, then I _am_ pleased.” She took a deep breath, vocals swaying with restrained emotion. “I don’t want to lose you,” she confessed softly. 

“Then try harder, mother.” Tenzen felt himself deflate, shoulders and cowl lowering from their offensive position. “Make an effort for the conversation to focus on _me,_ not Calpurnia. Judge Tosca as an individual, not by a few members of her species. Be better, and we can have a relationship.”

“I’ll do my best,” Falen answered in an uncharacteristically submissive tone. “For you, Tenzen, I’ll try.”

Their call ended more harmoniously than he’d expected, though he had no delusions about how long it’d take Falen to come around. She said she’d try, though, and his mother was a woman of her word. Still, he wasn’t going to be visiting her anytime soon. And he certainly wasn’t going to introduce Tosca until Falen had shown him she could be polite and considerate. 

Not an overall wretched exchange, he decided as he headed back to his quarters. As he stepped out of the elevator, the muted sounds of yelling drifted to his aural canal. As he approached his door, he could pick out pieces of the argument. 

“... matter!

“Of course it matters! … my daughter! … terrorist… Hierarchy!”

“If that’s how you feel about it, then this conversation is over!”

“Don’t _do_ this, Tosca, please!”

He stepped through the door, finding Tosca standing in the middle of the room with her back turned to him. Her spine was steel and her hands were clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms as she faced a hologram of an older-looking male human with excessive facial hair. A beard, he recalled. 

“Goodbye, dad,” Tosca growled in a tone he’d never heard before. The image in front of her disappeared though she maintained her aggressive stance until he cleared his throat. 

She turned to face him, though if he’d surprised her he couldn’t tell. Her face was a mask of anger, her left eye twitching as she slowly unclenched her fists. “Hey,” she greeted, voice brittle. 

He approached as though she were a wounded predator, circling just outside her personal space, uncertain if it was safe to touch her. She gave a shuddering sigh before walking over to sit on the edge of his bed, eyes focused on her knees. 

“I told my father,” she whispered after a moment. She shook her head and Tenzen risked sitting beside her, vocals rumbling in concern. 

“He doesn’t approve,” he concluded after another long pause. 

Tosca lifted her head, eyes wet and Tenzen opened his arms in a silent offer. Tosca pressed her face into the cloth of his civvies, hands gripping the material at his waist. He purred, singing subvocal lullabies as her body heaved with sobs.

“I… I knew he wouldn’t-” her sentence choked off into hiccuping sniffles. 

“I’m here,” Tenzen reassured her. “I’m not going anywhere.” He ran a hand down the back of her head, bringing a palm to cradle the side of her face. “We’re a team, remember?” Gently he urged her to look at him, lowering his brow to nuzzle her forehead. “No matter what, I’ll be here for you.”

Tosca's face was streaked with tears, but there was a smile in her eyes. “The Vallokius’ always stand together,” she nodded. Tenzen hugged her tighter as gradually her breathing returned to normal. He wasn’t sure why, but unbidden, the lyrics of an old human song flitted through his consciousness. 

_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine_

_I keep my eyes wide open all the time_

_I keep the ends out for the tie that binds_

_Because you're mine, I walk the line._

He hummed the melody as he held her. 

_I find it very, very easy to be true_

_I find myself alone when each day is through_

_Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you_

_Because you're mine, I walk the line._

Tosca pulled back to look at him, a full smile on her lips as she started to sing along. Tenzen joined in with his main voice as they finished the song, brows pressed together, eyes focused on the other, voices whispering on shared breath. 

_Because you're mine, I walk the line._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to S0me_Writer for beta reading =)


	23. The Vallokius'

“Tenzen my friend, you came to the right person for help,” Walter assured him as they walked the gleaming streets of the Presidium. “I’m a jewelry man myself, and the shop I have in mind is hands-down the _best_ on the Citadel for custom rings.”

Tenzen glanced over at his companion. Koza’s _amicae_ was taller for a human, though still short by turian standards. He had brilliant, curly gold hair that was cut short at the temples and worn in what Tosca had called a _‘man-bun_ ’ on the top of his head. His beard was shaved close to his face and Koza had once mentioned that he trimmed it daily to maintain the shape.

But, the thing about Walter that impressed Tenzen was how stylishly the man dressed. He wore suits for his job as a real estate agent but they all appeared to have been tailored to specifically fit the large shape of his arms and broad chest. Even his casual clothes were name-brand and looked like they’d been altered. 

Walter scratched his beard, the two rings he wore on his right hand glinting in the artificial sunlight. “Did you have a specific cut in mind?” he asked Tenzen conversationally. “Or type of stone?”

Tenzen hummed in concern. “No, I was just hoping I’d see something that reminded me of her?”

Walter tapped his chin as they approached a small storefront with gold trim around the windows. “Well, the selection here is pretty good. But, I think you oughta have a ring specially made for Tosca. Have your fingers - claws - in every step of the process from gems, to cut, to setting.” He walked confidently through the door, Tenzen following close behind. 

The shop was narrow but surprisingly deep and lined with illuminated glass cases. The plush, white carpet and holos of precious stones in gilded frames that adorned the walls only added to the notion that this was a place of excellence - and expense. 

A volus attendant looked up from a data-pad he’d been reading at their approach. “ _Tsk_. Greetings Earth clan, Palaven clan.” He nodded to each of them. “How can I help you?”

“This guy needs a human-style wedding ring,” Walter informed, giving Tenzen a solid slap on the shoulder. 

“I don’t really know what I’m looking for other than that,” Tenzen admitted as the volus waddled over to a display case. 

“ _Tsk_. Perhaps looking at some of our more popular styles will inspire you?” the volus suggested. Tenzen and Walter walked over to the case the volus stood behind. At the press of a button, the racks slowly rotated until the top one displayed rows of rings meant for a human or asari sized finger. 

Diamonds seemed to be a favorite among humans and Walter pointed out a few rings for Tenzen to look at. But, none of them seemed like something Tosca would appreciate. She wasn’t the type to wear gaudy necklaces or rings. Unlike many humans, she didn’t even have her ears pierced for adornment. 

Tenzen made a subvocal whine of frustration as he shook his head at a large, square-cut diamond ring the clerk had shown him. Despite shopping for over an hour he felt like he’d made zero progress. 

“It’s okay,” Walter assured with an easy smile. “Jewelry is a lot like art. It's specific to the viewer.”

Tenzen felt himself perk up at the mention of art. He knew an artist. Someone who also knew Tosca. Maybe Amadeus was free?

He quickly typed out a message to the krogan as he and Walter took a break to get lunch. The response was almost immediate. 

**Shut your filthy lie-hole! You want my help selecting a wedding ring for Tosca!?**

Tenzen hesitated, fingers hovering above his omni-tool. Perhaps asking Amadeus for help wasn’t such a good idea. He already had Walter with him, was three people too many for this sort of thing? He reflected on the futility of the last hour and how he'd been unable to differentiate between a cubic zirconium and a real diamond - much to Walter’s shock and the volus clerk’s horror. 

**If it’s not too much trouble.** He sent back

Amadeus had replied that it would be an absolute treat to jewelry shop for such a romantic occasion. Once Tenzen had sent him the shop’s coordinates, his old friend stated he would leave immediately, previous schedule be damned. 

After they finished eating, Tenzen and Walter returned to the shop to find one very large, and very excited krogan waiting for them. Amadeus was dressed in a set of silver and burgundy robes and looked right at home among the opulent jewelry.

“Oh Tenzen!” he greeted. “Have you considered batarian black-gold for a band?”

“I… No. Amadeus, this is Walter,” Tenzen gestured to his friend. 

“Walter Olson, Citadel Dreams Real Estate, pleasure to meet you.” Walter moved to shake Amadeus’ hand. “I’m trying to help Tenzen here find the perfect wedding ring for Ms. Tosca.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Amadeus returned, gripping Walter’s hand firmly. “I must say, you wear that cardigan better than anyone else I’ve ever met.” He stepped back, admiring Walter’s outfit. “Do you have your own tailor?”

“Matter of fact, I do! And wouldn’t you know it, he’s a krogan too.” Walter rested his hands on his hips, a huge smile curving up his face as he regarded Amadeus. 

“Not Drau Shrike?”

“That’s him!”

Tenzen cleared his throat, nodding toward a nearby display case. Amadeus shook his head before strolling over. “Right, to the task at hand.” He leaned over the case, motioning to the volus attendant. “My friend here needs to make a wedding ring. I can already tell you emeralds will be involved - and probably yellow sapphires. Do you have anything in a pear cut that can be affixed to a simple, batarian black-gold band?”

“ _Tsk_. Of course! Just let me get you a selection.” The volus seemed delighted to be dealing with someone who actually knew what they wanted and bustled around the store gathering the gems Amadeus had requested. 

“Why emeralds and yellow sapphires?” Tenzen asked. 

“Why, because they’re you, of course,” Amadeus answered, giving Tenzen a broad grin.

Tenzen looked over at Walter who merely shrugged. 

Amadeus huffed. “Tosca chose you for a mate in part because she finds you attractive,” he elaborated. “Getting her gems that are reminiscent of your coloring,” Amadeus gestured to Tenzen’s face, “seems like a logical first step. You know her style, I assume, so cut, shape, and size can be worked with, but trust me, I think she’ll like this.”

“Hey, now that’s a million credit idea!” Walter beamed. “Green for his eyes, yellow for the colony markings, and black like his plates.” Walter stepped back to appraise Tenzen like he were a work of art, forming his thumbs and pointer fingers into a square to frame Tenzen’s face. “Yeah, that’s a really cool idea.”

Tenzen had his doubts, though the stones the volus laid out on a black velvet cloth for inspection _were_ gorgeous. Amadeus produced what looked like a miniature, ancient spy-glass from a pocket in his robes. Holding it to an eye, he delicately picked up an emerald, turning it in his large fingers as he peered at the gem through the strange ocular device. 

“The clarity on this is lovely,” he muttered before setting it aside and giving the rest of the stones a similar treatment. The volus clerk wrung his hands as Amadeus made two piles; one for superior gems and one for stones he simply referred to as _‘mhh.’_

“Ah, well that’s a good selection,” he informed Tenzen and Walter. “Take a look.”

“Damn!” Walter exclaimed from his place at the krogan’s elbow. “They look like rainbow-infused tear-drops.”

Tenzen peered at the gems over Amadeus’ shoulder. The sapphires held a golden hue to them that reminded him of the setting sun on Pons; a burning yellow like smelted gold being poured into the silken sky. “They’re beautiful,” he breathed. “But, how do I turn them into a ring?”

Amadeus hummed, moving six sapphires into a line and placing the largest emerald - an ovular cut Tenzen had learned - in the middle. “What do you think of this arrangement?” he asked.

Tenzen tilted his head to the side. The pattern was striking. The batarian black-gold Amadeus had shown him was a rich onyx, nearly the same color as his plates. Placing these stones into a simple band would be perfect for Tosca. Pretty, but not too flashy, and the shape wouldn’t impede her ability to work. 

“I like it,” he nodded, feeling his mandibles flare into a smile as he pictured Tosca wearing his ring. An accompaniment to her bondmark and something all humans would recognize as signifying she was married. 

Walter whooped in triumph. 

“How long until your civil ceremony?” Amadeus inquired. 

“Uh.” Tenzen rubbed the back of his neck. “We already went to the Kithoi Court House and had a judge finalize our union. Should I have given it to her then?”

“Obviously yes! _Ancestors,_ how are you still so stunted romantically?” Amadeus let out a growling sigh before Tenzen could answer, closing his eyes and tipping his head back in exasperation. “When is your reception, again,” he asked, giving Tenzen an annoyed look. 

“In two weeks,” Walter answered helpfully. “Will you be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Amadeus assured. “I’m supplying the caterer - same people from the art show you attended,” he added to Tenzen. Whirling back to the volus clerk, Amadeus rapped his knuckles lightly on the display case glass. “These stones, in this arrangement, size six, human style band, batarian black-gold.”

“ _Tsk_. Yes sir!” The volus carefully gathered the selected gems into a deep purple pouch. 

“Oh,” Amadeus added. “And we’ll need it done in thirteen standard days.”

The volus froze, pouch still dangling from his hand. Despite the enviro-suit, Tenzen could swear the clerk’s eyes boggled at the proclamation. “ _Tsk._ Thirteen days? Are you _insane?_ There’s no way we can have it done that quickly!” The volus’ entire body moved with how forcefully he shook his head. “This order will take _at least_ four weeks to complete.” 

Amadeus pulled a credit chit from his robe and slid it over to the clerk, amethyst eyes narrow and expression pulled tight. “Make it happen.”

From his angle, Tenzen couldn’t see how much was contained in the bribe, but the volus’ soft gasp gave him an idea. 

“I’m not poor! I can bribe people too!” he protested. Amadeus waved him off, gaze never leaving the clerk. 

“It’ll be done in thirteen days?” the krogan confirmed. 

“ _Tsk._ I’ll have to call in the owner and express order the materials, but it’ll be ready as requested,” the volus assured.

“Excellent!” Amadeus clapped his hands together before turning to Tenzen. “That was just some grease, you still have to pay for the thing.” He shooed Tenzen toward the clerk.

Walter stood back, looking at Amadeus with a mix of astonishment and wonder as Tenzen pulled out his own credit chit to pay for Tosca’s ring. The price was more than he’d hoped, but he wasn’t about to complain - certainly not in front of Amadeus and Walter. 

“Give this to her after your reception,” Amadeus instructed. “And for the love of all deities, make it _romantic._ I know you have it in you.”

Tenzen scoffed as the group left the shop. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something that’ll put those ridiculous Disney movies you like so much to shame,” he boasted. 

“That’s the spirit!” Walter encouraged. “Say, do you think you should get a ring for yourself too?” He stopped walking to give Tenzen a concerned look. 

Tenzen shook his head. “It’d get in the way of my greaves,” he explained. “But, I’m going to get a ring tattooed around my finger.” He held his hand up to indicate which digit. 

“Now that’s romantic too!” Walter smiled. “And I know you can come up with something good for when you give Tosca her ring.”

“Yes, I have faith in you too,” Amadeus said in a tone that expressed little faith. 

Tenzen ignored him, mind already formulating a plan for the most romantic way to present Tosca with his gift. Regardless of what he did, one thing was certain: Tosca was going to love her wedding ring.

**********

Eeju lived relatively close to Huerta - near enough to walk to work in ten minutes. His apartment was large with an open floor plan and tiny bedrooms; typical of salarian architecture, given how little salarians slept compared to the other races. 

When Tosca and her oldest sister arrived early in the evening, Trella and Alma had already decorated the place with delicate looking pink and yellow flowers made from tissue paper. There was also a bar set up in the living room, constructed from weathered-looking wood. In the kitchen, Reba was busily pouring out themed dextro and levo drinks and placing them on decorative trays.

“You guys, this looks amazing!” Tosca exclaimed, spinning around to take in the country themed decor.

“Glad you approve,” Alma laughed, coming over to give Tosca a hug and shake Fatima’s hand. She looked down at Tosca’s feet. “You were right Trella! She’s wearing boots!” she called over to their friend. 

Trella looked down from where she was perched atop a chair, hanging garlands of paper flowers along the ceiling. “A country theme seemed fitting since you and Tenzen both love the genera,” she smiled. “And I figured you’d be wearing your cowgirl boots tonight.” The asari grinned knowingly. 

Tosca shrugged before twirling around the room once more, her dress fanning out as she moved. “Tulip is going to love this!” she assured, walking over to the counter where Reba was setting drinks. “Speaking of tulips, check out the drinks,” Reba smirked. “The dextro cocktail is a little something I’ve named _The Pons Tulip.”_ She giggled at her own joke before pointing out the purple, levo beverage. “This one’s called the _Citadel Cowgirl,”_ she grinned. 

“These look great,” Tosca chuckled, helping herself to a drink. It tasted like raspberry and lilac with the sweet, lingering burn of vodka coating her mouth afterwards. 

“Now these are dangerous,” Fatima commented, taking a sip from her own glass. “Are you a mixologist?” she asked Reba. 

“I am, actually,” Reba confirmed, setting her hands flat on the counter top. Her engagement ring sparkled under the fluorescent lights. She and Alma were having a massive wedding on Earth next year. Not what Tosca considered ‘fun,’ if all Alma and Reba’s stress was anything to go off. This, a house party with close friends, _this_ was a good time. 

The door chimed and Eeju materialized from one of the smaller rooms to answer it. Trajan and Yua stepped inside, followed closely by Koza and Walter. Koza was carrying a plastic container of something and immediately asked Eeju if she could put it in the fridge. 

“Where’s Tenzen?” Walter asked, taking in the decorations. 

“He’s on his way,” Tosca answered. “He said he needed to grab something before the party.”

Walter opened his mouth in a silent expression of _‘oh’_ before a knowing smirk crossed his lips. Before she could comment on it, Fatima had stepped next to her and Tosca was making introductions.

Amadeus and Klash appeared shortly after, followed by the caterers and their chests of food. Amadeus took charge with Eeju, helping lay out the different refreshments on color coordinated chafing dishes: red for levo and blue for dextro. 

When Tulip arrived, Tosca was already three drinks down. “Tulip!” she yelled, prancing over to plant a sloppy kiss on his mouth plates. 

Yua and Fatima giggled from where they stood nearby, but Tosca didn’t care. This was her wedding reception and she could kiss her husband if she damn well wanted. 

“You taste really good,” Tulip commented, a mandible flaring out in a grin. 

“The drinks Tulip!” Tosca told him excitedly. “You gotta try one!” She roughly shoved him in the direction of the bar. Turning, she came face to face with nurse Athuza. The asari matron beamed, pulling Tosca in for a strong hug. “I’m so happy for you, my dear.” She said pulling back but keeping her hands on Tosca’s shoulders. “I could have never imagined you and Tenzen Vallokius would wind up bonded, but seeing how happy you two are together makes my heart light.”

Normally Tosca would have blushed at the compliment, but the alcohol made her bold. “Tulip is _such_ an amazing man,” she gushed to her former mentor. “And oh my god, his _dick!_ ” she whispered loudly, leaning closer to Athuza. “They should model a dildo after him.”

Athuza burst into hysterical laughter, hands slapping her knees. “I need one of those,” she informed Tosca, pointing at the empty drink in her hand. “Ah Tosca, it’s good to feel like a maiden again.” With a final chuckle Athuza headed for the bar, but not before giving Eeju’s roommate - who also happened to be his older brother - an appraising look.

Tosca sauntered over to Tulip, who was talking with Trajan and Koza. He grinned at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hugging her to him with a purr. Tosca’s eyes wandered to the hand holding his drink. A bold, yellow ring tattoo encircled his middle finger. His version of a wedding ring. She smiled dreamily, even as Trajan continued talking. 

“I was just telling your mate here how much money he could get for that skycycle of his,” Trajan told her. “The head partner at my firm would give his center fringe horn for a vintage _Volante_ in that condition.”

Tulip snorted. “Not for sale,” he informed their friend. “I got it on Pons when I was sixteen. I poured nearly all my free-time and credits into making it the beauty it is now.” 

Trajan held his hands up in surrender. “Just saying, they don’t make those anymore and for an ultimate classic you could get close to half a million credits.”

“We like it too much to ever sell,” Tosca answered before Tulip could respond. “Besides, it has sentimental value to Tulip.” She smiled up at him, remembering the story of how he’d found it in an old barn. It was beaten-up and weathered and didn’t run. The owner had been delighted to rid himself of perceived trash. Tulip had seen the potential though. Under his loving hands, the skycycle had been restored to its former glory.

Koza flicked out a mandible in the turian version of a grin. “Speaking of things that are hard to find, I just got back from Palaven and brought you something,” she told Tulip. 

Tosca felt Tulip rumble in question. “It’s in the fridge,” she told him, beckoning with a hand. Tulip and Trajan followed her while Tosca walked over to where Trella was speaking with Athuza. 

“Oh Tosca,” Athuza greeted, raising her glass. “I was just telling Trella about an old flame.” The older asari sighed, swirling a half empty drink. “Jondum Bau.” She let out a sinful moan. “Salarian spectre and a man who _really_ knew how to embrace eternity.” Athuza threw back the rest of her drink before pinning Tosca with bleary eyes. “You think they should make a dildo after Tenzen? They should make an entire _line_ of sex toys after Jondum’s cloaca.” 

Tosca awkwardly laughed, trying and failing to mask the noise as a cough. She glanced over at Trella. Her friend’s nostrils flared and her mouth formed an upside down arc in an expression of distaste. She cleared her throat before looking at Tosca and raising her glass. “To not letting the ones who matter get away!”

Athuza lifted a new glass in salute before redirecting her attention back on Trella once more. Tosca grinned, leaving the asari to their conversation and heading over to where Tulip was eating what looked like small chocolates. 

“I can’t believe you got me _crustula_ from Palaven,” he said to Koza who was standing next to him with Walter. 

“Consider it a wedding present from us,” Koza smiled as Walter leaned against her. 

“What’s _crustula?”_ Tosca asked, watching as Tulip reverently ate another chocolate, setting it on his tongue, eyes fluttering shut. 

“It’s a type of dessert,” Koza answered. “Too sweet for me, but lots of other turians like them.”

“Case in point,” Walter said, tipping his chin in Tulip’s direction with an amused grin. 

Tosca’s attention was pulled to the center of the living room where Alma was rapping a spoon against her glass. “Everyone!” She turned her head to ensure she had everybody’s attention. “A toast! To Tosca and Tenzen! Two star-crossed lovers who found a home in each other and have become the type of romance you hear about in vids! To the Vallokius’!”

“To the Vallokius’!” rang out among their friends as glasses were clinked together and few people cheered. 

“A true and worthy Disney romance!” Amadeus added in a booming voice from where he’d been talking to Fatima near the bar.

After that, there was food and music and more conversation. Eventually though, as the early morning hours crept in on the gathering, their friends excused themselves, either one by one or in pairs to return to their own homes. Fatima left before Tosca and Tulip, still adjusting to the time difference and eager to get some sleep on the couple’s new couch. Eeju’s brother crept out with Athuza, much to Tosca’s delight and Trella’s dismay. 

“That’s all I’m going to hear about for a week,” Trella groaned. 

“True,” Tosca acknowledged, “but I mean, it’ll make them happy?” 

Trella huffed in response, but there was laughter dancing in her azure eyes. 

“Thank you _so much_ for letting us have our wedding reception at your place,” Tosca told Eeju as she and Tulip prepared to depart. “This was more than we could have hoped for.”

“Of course!” Eeju replied, a slender arm draped over Trella’s shoulders. “Am happy for you. Tenzen is a worthy mate.”

Tulip dipped his head at the compliment and Tosca hugged him. “I think so too,” she agreed. “We’ll come back tomorrow to help you clean.”

Eeju waved off the offer. “Not tired yet, can get place cleaned in a few hours,” he assured. “Go, sleep, enjoy each other.”

Tulip gently pulled her along with him as they left, making their way to the apartment complex parking garage and Tulip’s skycycle. Once seated, Tulip powered up the vehicle and sped out into the neon tributaries of Citadel traffic.

It quickly became apparent that he wasn’t headed back to their home. Tosca gently tapped her helmet against his in unspoken question. Tulip only nodded. A detour then. She wondered where he was taking them. A small, irritable part of her mind whined that she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall face-first into fresh sheets and sleep. 

Tulip dropped down several lanes of traffic, veering off toward the Presidium gardens. When he finally pulled over and parked, Tosca was more curious than tired. “What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around. 

“I wanted to show you something,” Tulip answered cryptically, taking her by the hand. They walked down into the gardens, the alien and familiar floral scents hanging heavily in the pre-dawn air. The artificial twilight wasn’t deep enough to diminish the colors of the plants. Red and fuchsia, teal and lavender and ones with colors she couldn’t quite describe or name. 

Tulip stopped in front of a medium sized flower bush. Glancing down at the placard, which had a description in Alliance standard, the plant was described as a _Palaveni Mirror Chalice_. Tosca leaned forward to get a better look. The bush was covered in translucent, cup-shaped flowers. Light seemed attracted to the petals. Every now and then the flowers flashed color reminiscent of the inside of an abalone shell. 

“Did you bring me here to see this?” she asked Tulip, confused. 

Tulip rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes… and no.” He hummed nervously, vocals shivering in the still air. “This particular plant is thought to be the most beautiful in all Hierarchy space,” he said, turning to look down at her. 

“It is?” The bush was pretty, but there were far lovelier blooms in the garden. Tosca wondered why turians prized this one so highly. 

Tulip cast a furtive look over his shoulder before leaning over the short guardrail and plucking a flower off the bush. Carefully, he handed it to her. The interior bell of the plant had a smooth, reflective sheen to it. Tosca gazed down at her reflection while the surrounding petals flashed in opalescent blues and greens. 

“See?” Tulip came to wrap his arms around her, looking down into the flower. “The chalice reveals only the most beautiful things.” 

Tosca huffed, tilting her head all the way back to look at him. “I dunno about the _most_ beautiful,” she argued, though it was hard to feel unattractive with the way her husband was looking at her.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” Tulip whispered. “And I hope…” he trailed off, digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, velvet box. “I hope that this helps you feel even more beautiful.”

Tulip held the box out to her and Tosca wordlessly took it, flipping open the lid. Nestled inside was a ring with emeralds and some type of yellow stone - sapphires, maybe? Tosca pulled it out to admire in the brightening light. The band was a midnight black and different from anything she’d ever seen before. 

“Do you like it?” Tulip asked, shifting uneasily on his feet.

“Tulip, this is gorgeous,” she breathed, tearing her eyes away from her wedding ring to smile up at him. 

Tulip purred, taking the ring and tenderly slipping it onto her finger. He lifted her hand to his mouth plates, giving it a reverent nip reminiscent of a kiss. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more beautiful now, Mrs. Vallokius.“

Tosca jumped into his arms, overwhelmed with emotion. She had the sweetest husband in the galaxy. And the rest of her life to spend with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to updates, life has gotten wildly hectic lately. Realistically, I can post new chapters every other week until things settle. That being said, we're nearing the end of this story. =)
> 
> **There is now art of Tenzen on chapter 15!


	24. Talks of Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - Sexual content after the chapter break 
> 
> culus - a palaveni term for an ass-hole.

Despite having worked at Huerta for nearly five years, the work never got easier. Fatigue pulled at her weary limbs as Tosca made her way to Zakara cafe. She’d worked the night shift and an asari maiden with a healing infection in her head crest had demanded nearly all her attention. How the girl had allowed so much moisture to accumulate between the nooks and spaces of her crest was beyond Tosca. Once the infection had started to cause flesh rot, the maiden had checked herself in, convinced she was dying. Despite being told multiple times she’d be fine - albeit with discolored and slightly warped tentacles toward the back of her skull - the girl had summoned Tosca every twenty minutes, positive she was exhibiting symptoms of some new and far worse condition. 

Tosca slumped into a human style chair at one of the tables. She wasn’t even hungry, but she’d made breakfast plans with Yua nearly two weeks ago and felt guilty about blowing them off. She rested her head atop her arms, the smell of antiseptic still cleaning to her nurse’s uniform. _I should have changed_ , Tosca thought grumpily. Before she could fret more about her attire or smell, Yua appeared from around the corner. 

Trajan’s mate was the epitome of a proper lady; her makeup was minimal, but flawless. Raven-black hair gleamed in the sunlight, cascading over her shoulders. She worked as in-house counsel for a genetics corporation with locations on the Citadel and Sur’Kesh and her work clothes looked like they were pulled straight from the fashion runway. 

Yua gave Tosca a broad smile as she took a seat across from her at the table. “Night shift?” she asked, taking in Tosca’s rumpled scrubs. 

“Yeah,” Tosca yawned, blinking her eyes a few times in a bid to be more alert. “A _long_ night shift,” she emphasized. 

“You’re doing good work,” Yua informed her. “Not everyone could handle your job. I am glad people like you exist.”

Tosca gave her friend a genuine smile. Despite the reputation most corporate lawyers had for being soulless, money-obsessed attack dogs, Yua managed to be both empathetic and gentle. According to Trajan, this wasn’t the case when she needed to litigate for her client, but Tosca struggled to imagine her friend as anything other than a kind and caring person. 

“How’s the married life treating you and Trajan?” Tosca inquired, pulling up the cafe menu on the table kiosk. 

“Even better than I had hoped,” Yua answered. Dark, almond shaped eyes lifted to meet Tosca’s. “We’ve actually been discussing the Cheir program,” she said casually, as though this news wasn’t earth-shattering. 

“Already?” Tosca blurted out. “Sorry, I mean, you two just got married last month.” She and Tulip hadn’t even _discussed_ the topic yet and they’d been bonded for nearly three years. Alma and Reba loosely talked about adoption, but they didn’t have definite plans either. 

“Yes, it is a bit fast,” Yua acknowledged. “But, we’ve always wanted children. To plant a seed and watch it grow and blossom.” Her mouth pulled into a gentle smile. “The application and process for the Cheir program can take up to a year, though - and that doesn’t include gestation.” Yua placed her order in the kiosk before resting her elbows on the table and folding her hands. “If we want a Cheir, it’s best to start early,” she concluded. 

“How do you think your fathers will respond to a Cheir?” Tosca asked, remembering that they hadn’t been thrilled their daughter was marrying a turian. 

Yua hummed in thought. “My dad is an adviser for the Alliance. His dislike of the Hierarchy is from purely a military standpoint. Trajan is a civilian now. My dad actually likes him.” She nodded to herself. “He’d love any children we would have…”

Yua trailed off, gaze becoming distant. “My papa is a historian.” Her shoulders slumped as she spoke. “He sees numerous parallels between turian military culture and the Nazi regime from human history.” She sighed, returning her gaze to Tosca. “It has been difficult for him. He struggles to remember that he cannot judge the Hierarchy from purely a human perspective. They are a different race, with their own history and morals. But,” a hand moved subconsciously to fiddle with her pearl necklace. “I want to believe he’d love my children. They would still be a part of me, after all.”

“I know parental disapproval all too well,” Tosca agreed. She’d only begun speaking with her own father earlier that year. Things were still tense, though he had accepted that Tulip wasn’t going anywhere. She hadn’t introduced them - and wouldn’t until her father asked. An occurrence she felt was still far off. 

“Yes,” Yua nodded. “You have said your father disapproves strongly. I think mine will love their grandchildren - even if they are turian Cheirs with black plates and Trajan’s golden eyes.” Yua brushed a lock of midnight-black hair over her shoulder. 

“I think my family would love any child Tulip and I had,” Tosca mused. “My sisters would be especially thrilled.”

“Are children something you and Tenzen want?” Yua asked, smiling to the salarian waiter as he set out their food and coffee. 

“I want kids,” Tosca nodded once the waiter had left. "I’m not sure I want to go through pregnancy though. Just, the toll it takes on you physically.” She cringed before glancing over at Yua who was blowing on her cup of coffee. “That’s why I started researching the Cheir program initially. We could use a surrogate or an artificial womb.”

“Does Tenzen want a turian child, or a human child?” Yua asked.

“I’m not positive how Tulip feels about it,” Tosca admitted. “He’s never said he _doesn’t_ want children.” She frowned down at her buttered toast. This was probably a conversation they should have had years ago. 

“You should discuss it with him,” Yua advised, adding cream - or whatever the white fluid was - to her coffee. “The Cheir program can take a long time. We aren’t asari. Our own lives burn fast and bright like novas. Best to take full advantage.”

“He comes home today,” Tosca noted. “I think you’re right. Time to have the baby conversation. See about planting a seed, as you said.”

Yua gave her a bright smile that reached her eyes. “I am happy to hear that,” she replied. 

Tosca took a bite of toast, mind already formulating the best way to bring up the topic. Hopefully, Tulip would want to start family planning too. 

********

Tenzen waited impatiently for the decontamination cycle to run as he stood with several other crewmen inside the airlock. He’d been away for over a week and desperately wanted to take a shower in the privacy of his own bathroom and then fall into bed with his mate. He smoothed down the fabric of his tunic, adjusting the collar. His hand lingered over his exposed bondmark, mandibles fluttering in anticipation. 

At least the Steadfast would be patrolling Citadel space for the next galactic month. He wouldn’t need to go more than a few days in between seeing Tosca. He stepped out onto the dock and set a brisk pace toward the skycar kiosk. 

His shins ached as he walked out into the shaded avenues of the Presidium. Tosca diligently packed ointment in his personal travel bag and even managed to get a tube into his washroom, but he often neglected to apply it to his old injury. He’d do it tonight, he decided. He’d make sure Tosca was watching too, so she wouldn’t worry so much about whether he was taking care of himself when away. 

Mind preoccupied, he almost missed the agitated subvocals coming from behind him. He slowed his gait, casting a glance over his shoulder and wondering how he’d managed to offend someone without speaking. 

“Hanno?” The racist Taetrun from his evaluations on Palaven years ago glared back with eyes the color of dirty dishwater. 

“Vallokius,” Hanno intoned, a sneer to his subharmonics. “Never thought I’d see you again.” 

“Nor I you,” Tenzen replied, a light snarl to his words. “I didn’t think command would let you near civilization. You do such a wonderful job at making our race look ignorant and bigoted.” 

Hanno growled, stepping into Tenzen’s personal space and making a point to stare down at him. Despite being shorter, Tenzen wasn’t one to be intimidated. He aggressively squared his shoulders, raising his head to meet Hanno’s eyes. 

“I know it was you,” Hanno seethed. “You and that human-loving bitch, Hellinus.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tenzen bit out between bared teeth, hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides. 

“Back on Palaven, I know you told Captain Victus I had _'issues’_ with aliens.” Hanno moved so his keel pressed against Tenzen’s. “Thanks to your slander, the Captain ordered as a condition of my promotion that I attend yearly inter-species empathy training ‘ _until such time as I’ve demonstrated the appropriate attitude befitting of my station.’_ ” 

Tenzen felt his eyes widen momentarily at this news. “I didn’t say anything to Victus about you,” he informed the taller man. “You’re not worth the time to talk about.” He pushed back against Hanno’s chest, feeling the other man move his foot to maintain balance. “If the Captain sensed you were a racist _culus_ you’ve only your own behavior to blame.”

Tenzen took a step back, half-turning in the direction of the skycar terminal. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go home.”

 _“Back to that filthy human whore you call a mate!”_ Hanno taunted subvocally, eyes mere slits and pinned to Tenzen’s bondmark. 

If he’d expected Tenzen to turn his nose up and keep walking, he was woefully mistaken. In the span of a heartbeat, Tenzen closed the distance between them. He struck hard and fast, punching Hanno in the throat. Hanno fell to his knees gasping, eyes wide in shock as Tenzen towered over him. _“Nobody_ insults my Tosca,” he snarled, vocals threatening more retribution should Hanno be foolish enough to respond. Before C-Sec could get involved, Tenzen quickly spun on his talons and stormed off. 

Hanno was a stupid piece of shit, Tenzen fumed as he got into a skycar. His hands shook with fury as he input his destination. While he could understand Captain Victus’ rational, had the decision been his, he wouldn’t have allowed that asshole to leave Oma Ker. 

He was still furious as he disembarked his ride and rode the elevator up to his apartment. Hanno was too arrogant to report the assault, of that much Tenzen was certain. But still, knowing that vindictive prick was on the station - even for a limited time frame - made his vocals tremble with rage. 

He stepped heavily into his unit, the soft _whoosh_ of the door closing behind him at odds with his temper. Overall, he and Tosca still endured a snide remark or leer, but things were improving with time. Hanno’s comments served to remind him that despite progress toward racial harmony, there were still those among his people who hated humanity as a matter of course. 

“Tulip?”

“I’m here,” he responded more gruffly than he’d intended. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath of air through his nose. The familiar, soothing scents of home filled his lungs: the floral dish soap Tosca was so fond of, coffee, gun oil from the rag he used to clean his rifle, and floating gently under all that, a light, citrus, earthy smell that belonged to his love. 

“Hey.” Soft hands cradled his face. “Is everything okay?”

He opened his eyes to Tosca’s concerned expression. The way she looked at him, like he was a being from some other, higher realm of existence, never failed to steal his breath. He placed a hand over her comparatively small one, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her against him. He nuzzled the top of her head, a mandible flicking out against her bun.

“I’m fine now,” he told her. “Just ran into an old acquaintance I’d hoped to never see again.”

Tosca moved so she could stare up at him, but he brushed away the lingering doubt in her gaze with a gentle press of his mouth against hers. Tosca moved to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping into his mouth. She stole a sigh on shared breath and Tenzen couldn’t help but moan deep in his throat. 

“I missed you,” she whispered. 

_“Spirits,_ I missed you too,” he breathed. Tosca took him by the elbow, pulling him with her to the couch. He obediently followed, sitting as she straddled him. He bucked up against her as she moved her head to trail hot, possessive kisses down his neck, rubbing a cheek against his bondmark. 

“Ah, fuck Tosca,” groaned, as her cleaver hand found his crotch. She rubbed the heel of her palm against the tip of his emerging cock, his pants going from damp to wet in a matter of seconds as he fully unsheathed. “Please,” he rasped, helpless under the onslaught of her ministrations. “I want-” his voice splintered as Tosca moved to grind herself against his clothed erection. “Fuck!”

Tosca chuckled darkly against his neck. Tenzen gripped her hips, rocking against her, a reminder of what they _could_ be doing if she’d take her pants off. He felt more than heard her sharp gasp, an abrupt change in the air pressure near his aural canal. Then, she was squirming, hands pushing down the fabric of her yoga pants even as his own moved to the clasps at his waist. He roughly pulled off his tunic, only noticing Tosca had removed her shirt when the warm, soft swell of her breasts pressed against his chest plates. 

He didn’t have the patience for foreplay and tugged on her wrist, vocals whining in need. 

“Yeah?” Tosca confirmed, even as she gripped him, hand pumping his length.

“Yesss,” he hissed. “Please, yes, now I-”

In an instant she’d aligned him with her center. Lifting his hips, he brushed against her weeping folds, heat already pooling in his abdomen. Slowly, so slowly, Tosca sank down onto him. Her eyes were nearly lidded as her mouth fell open in silent prayer.

Tenzen felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. When their hips were flush he sat frozen, panting as though he’d run a marathon. Every time felt like the first. Her body, soft and supple, her cunt tight, wet and welcoming. 

Tosca lifted onto her knees, his length sliding out of her before she quickly re-seated herself. He tried to speak, but the words were chewed and ended up sounding like gibberish to his own ears. Mutely, He pinched Tosca’s clit between two fingers, applying just enough pressure to make her curse as she rode him. 

“Yeah, just like that!” he gasped. “Shit!” Regaining some of his senses, he thrust up into her as their pace became a frenzied race to completion. The smell of their combined arousal drifted into his consciousness and through the fog of lust, he decided that it was the best defining scent of _‘home.'_

Tosca’s orgasm crashed down like a wave upon the rocks. She made a strangled, choked cry of his name as her body trembled, skin glistening under the lights. Tenzen pulled her roughly against him as he fucked her, hips snapping up in a symphony of wet flesh and bated breath. 

He came with a shrill cry, holding her firmly down as he emptied inside her sweet, hot center. The base of his cock began to swell and Tosca ground against him, prolonging their pleasure as he knotted. 

Tenzen hugged her tightly as their breathing gradually returned to normal. After the bliss that followed their coupling began to fade, Tosca lifted her head, face flushed and eyes bright. 

“It’s cruel of the Hierarchy to make me go without you for weeks at a time,” she teased. 

“A war crime, really,” Tenzen agreed, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. 

Even after his knot went down and his shaft had retreated back behind his plates, the pair remained together on the couch, discussing what to do while Tenzen was home.

“We could go to the botanical gardens tomorrow?” he suggested, knowing how much Tosca loved it there. It was where he’d presented her with a wedding ring, and held a special, sentimental place in both their hearts. 

“Speaking of gardens,” Tosca began, “and seeds and flowers, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He rumbled in encouragement when she hesitated, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

“Tulip, do you…” she trailed off before looking him in the eye. “I want to start a family.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that! He stared dumbly, the only thoughts in his head static. 

“I know we haven’t really discussed it, but I think it’s time we did,” Tosca soldiered on in spite of his stunned silence. “And, I’d like to look into the Cheir program. Have a child that’s a part of both of us. Maybe… a tiny tulip?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Him, a father? He’d thought about it, though not in any depth or detail. His interaction with Hanno came roaring back to the forefront of his mind. “Not everyone will accept a Cheir,” he managed at last. “What if they’re ridiculed?” 

“People can be cruel,” Tosca acknowledged. “But the Cheir program is becoming more common. Trajan and Yua are already planning to start the application process. Our child wouldn’t be alone.” She gave him a confident smile. “And we’ll be there for them. To constantly tell them how loved and cherished they are.”

“I don’t know how to be a dad,” Tenzen fretted. “My own father… and then… I haven’t had the best parental role models,” he told her, mandibles pulled tight to his face. “What if I fail?” His subharmonics whined, singing his fear in discordant notes. 

“You won’t fail,” Tosca promised him. “If you love them, make sure they know you love them, then you’ll succeed.”

He gave her an uncertain look. “You seem so sure of that,” he questioned. “How can you know I won’t screw up whatever child we’d have?”

“Because I know you,” Tosca assured him. “You’ve so much love to give. I wouldn’t want to be a parent with anyone else.”

He glanced away as the notion took root. Somewhere, he heard a small, dual-toned voice calling out _daddy,_ and yearned to answer it. “Yeah,” he said, looking back to his beautiful mate.

“Yeah?” she repeated, excitement bubbling in her voice. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “With you? Definitely yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this chapter =)


	25. A New Addition

The next few days were filled with private smiles and daydreams. Things Tenzen had never noticed before - like the material used to make infant nests for turian chicks - suddenly became of the utmost importance. It was worth the extra credits to ensure his future child had the softest bedding on the market, he decided. 

In the evenings, Tenzen wandered into the smaller, second room of his and Tosca’s apartment. He tried to imagine it without the desk and reading chair. Images of a space themed nursery replaced the bland office furniture. Maybe they could get a sleep-nest shaped like a cruiser? He’d loved spaceships as a child - and Blasto, and the Hierarchy’s Finest cartoon show that followed the exploits of Captain Ulther and his crew. He quietly hoped his son would enjoy these things too - something they could share together. 

Tosca was more proactive with her excitement. She’d begun filling out the application forms for the Cheir program immediately after their conversation. She’d ask him for personal information as she stared at the desk terminal, brow furrowed in concentration. She’d stay seated for hours until Tenzen forced her to take a break or come to bed. 

Sex seemed to have a new meaning. Even though the Cheir program used DNA primarily taken from skin scrapings and blood draws, the knowledge that they were going to have a child awakened something in his more primitive consciousness. If he was more enthusiastic and passionate during intercourse, Tosca wasn’t complaining.

They’d have a little boy. A turian child that was nearly a genetic clone of Tenzen except for the gene that controlled the coloration of his plates. Those, they had already decided, would be the same rich, mahogany brown as Tosca’s hair. Their Cheir would look exotic, but not foreign. He’d be a gorgeous child, their son. A blend of both of them. And above all, so, so wanted. 

Two days before he was scheduled to return to the Steadfast and take up patrol of the Widow system, Tenzen came home from grocery shopping to find Tosca seated on the floor. She was curled into herself, arms hugging her knees; a small, broken thing. 

Vocals whirring in concern, he dumped the grocery bags on the table before hurrying over, crouching by her side. “Love, what’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“I finished the application,” Tosca replied softly. She turned her head to look at him, eyes clouded with grief. “We… we can’t afford it, Tulip.” She shook her head, eyes closing. “There’s no way we can afford it.”

“How much is it?” he questioned, calculations running through his head. Maybe if they budgeted?

“It’s 225  _ thousand  _ credits,” Tosca answered, emphasizing the word with a light scoff. 

Tenzen felt his lower mandible drop. That… that was a  _ huge  _ amount of money!  _ Spirits, _ they weren’t low income, but he’d never felt poorer in his life. 

“And that’s just for the procedure,” Tosca went on. “That doesn’t include the fact we’ll need to visit the institute on Sur’Kesh at least two or three times - and pay for travel, lodging, and other expenses - God, Tulip, the final estimate is closer to 300 thousand credits!”

Tenzen felt his own head shaking in disbelief. It would take them  _ decades  _ of budgeting to save that many credits! Next to him, Tosca sighed as she leaned against his shoulder. Looking down at her, he felt his heart shatter into his rib cage as he watched their dream die; shadows falling heavy over Tosca’s face as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling her closer against him. 

“Nothing about this is your fault,” Tosca sniffed, a hand coming to wipe at her eyes. “Maybe it’ll be cheaper in another couple years?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, though he doubted they’d be able to afford the program even  _ if  _ the price dropped. He kept this to himself though.

They sat on the floor until the artificial night cycle seeped into the azure sky, blotting out the blues and whites and staining the station in indigo. Neither Tenzen nor Tosca had much of an appetite. They moved on autopilot as they each completed their evening routines before settling into bed together. 

Tosca lay awake longer than usual. When sleep finally did claim her, it was fitful, her expression pinched as her eyes danced behind closed lids. For his part, Tenzen hardly slept at all. He prided himself on contributing to the household. He earned more than Tosca and had always assumed he could provide whatever she wanted. But it seemed the Cheir program wasn’t for the likes of them. Only the wealthy businessmen and rich investors and attorneys could afford those types of numbers. 

He gasped as realization hit him. Perhaps there  _ was  _ a way he could get the money. He glanced at the time and decided it wasn’t too early to message Trajan. 

**Hey, random question: do you think the managing partner at your firm would still be interested in buying my skycycle?**

Tenzen tried not to fidget as he awaited a response. He checked his work messages twice, and the news, before Trajan at last replied. 

**I bet he would! Why do you ask? I thought you said you’d never sell it?**

**I changed my mind.** Tenzen wrote back. **I’d be willing to sell the** **_Volante_ ** **for 350 thousand credits. Can you let me know what he says?** Tenzen attached a picture of the skycycle for good measure. 

**Is that a hard price-point or would you be willing to negotiate?** Trajan asked. 

Tenzen sighed.  **I’d be willing to negotiate a little - but 300 thousand is the lowest I’d go.**

**I’ll ask when I see him later today.**

Tenzen tried to stay busy after that. He did dishes and made Tosca coffee before finding the house too claustrophobic. Grabbing his helmet, he left Tosca a note that he was taking the skycycle out for a cruise. 

It wasn’t until an hour or so later, as he was standing at the rail of the Presidium lake, absently staring at the crystal clear waters that he finally got a response from Trajan. 

**You free to swing by the firm? He wants to see the cycle and possibly discuss purchasing it.**

**I can head over now.** Tenzen sent back, already strapping on his helmet. 

He sped through traffic, the wind whipping past his face and skycars falling behind like slow moving fish as he zoomed past. A part of him knew this would be the last time he’d ride his cycle. And yet, he’d never been more at peace with the notion as an image of Tosca cradling an impossibly tiny, fuzzy newborn swam before his mind’s eye. 

He’d give it up - he’d give it all up for that. 

**********

Tosca robotically moved her spoonful of yogurt to her mouth, not tasting anything as she dutifully swallowed. The world seemed grey today. Yesterday, everything was so vibrant and full of hope - she felt like she’d been viewing things through a prism, where rainbows arched and curved around each person and place. This new reality was so dull in comparison. 

She should have known it would be expensive. Yua and Trajan were in a different economic bracket than she and Tulip, but still. She’d thought they could afford it. At least have  _ one  _ child through the program. 

What stung more than being reminded she wasn’t wealthy was how  _ badly  _ she’d wanted it. Once Tulip had agreed and actually been excited at the prospect of parenthood, having a Cheir had consumed nearly all her thoughts. A little turian boy with Tulip’s deep, evergreen eyes and plates the color of her hair. She’d dreamed about him. How he’d look, what his little voice would sound like calling her  _ mama.  _

She pushed her yogurt cup aside, chin coming to rest on her knees from where she was seated on the floor.  _ It wasn’t meant to be, _ she repeated to herself. If she made that a mantra, said it enough, maybe the fact wouldn’t hurt anymore. 

There were still other options to explore; adoption wasn’t nearly as expensive. But right now, all she could focus on was the son she’d never have. She mourned the loss of a future she could almost touch, a little hand she’d never hold. 

Forcing herself to stand, she stretched, glancing at the time on her omni-tool. Tulip had been gone before she’d rolled out of bed and still wasn’t home despite the fact it was late afternoon. He was disappointed too, but at least they could have been miserable together. He didn’t have to ditch her, she thought bitterly. 

Deciding she could use a shower, Tosca let the hot water pour over her; scour away the sorrow and regret. But when she stepped out and wrapped herself in one of the larger, turian style towels they owned she still felt miserable. 

A clinking sound from the kitchen caught her attention. Tulip must have come home while she was in the shower. Sighing, she finished toweling off, running her fingers through her hair and tossing the loose strands that clung to her hand into the trash. Much as she found Tulip’s regurgitated gizzard stones and shed plates disgusting, he similarly was repulsed by wet hair clogging the drain or sticking to the sink and wall. 

Walking into their bedroom, Tosca pulled one of Tulip’s tunics over her head. The deeper cut to accommodate a turian cowl meant the collar fit loosely over her shoulders while the rest of the fabric hung down to her knees. The look was comical, but comfortable. 

She entered the small kitchen to find Tulip pouring two glasses of chilarity neutral champagne. Her brows knit in confusion as she stared at the celebratory drinks. 

“I didn’t realize there was something special about today.” She said crankily, crossing her arms as her previous disappointment came rushing back. 

Tulip ignored her tone and instead flicked out a mandible in the turian version of a grin. “I’d think having a child more than justifies champagne,” he answered casually. 

Tosca glared at his back. “We can’t afford it,” she reminded him, voice cracking with barely repressed despair. “You  _ know  _ that.”

Tulip turned to face her, setting a glass of bubbling champagne on the counter. He stepped around and gently took her hand in his, pressing something small and cold into her palm. Tosca moved to look at the credit chit. “What…” she began, turning it over to see the amount it contained. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes bulged. “Tulip… Where did you-”

“That’ll cover the program costs and most of the travel expenses,” he said softly. “I was hoping to get more, but never try to negotiate with an attorney.” His mandibles pulled out as he huffed in mild exasperation. 

“But, how did you get this much money?” Tosca asked, mind searching for an explanation as she stared into her husband’s swirling emerald eyes. 

“I sold the skycycle,” Tulip answered, voice barely above a whisper. “The managing partner at Trajan’s firm is a collector of vintage cycles and skycars.” 

“But, you love the skycycle!” Tosca gasped. 

“I do- I did,” Tulip agreed. He held both Tosca’s hands in his, bringing them to his mouth plates and giving them a gentle nip. “But, I want a baby with you. And I love that future more than I could ever love any machine.”

Tears streaked down her face as she made a soft whimper and pressed herself against Tulip’s chest. He purred as he held her and Tosca wondered if he’d do the same to comfort their son one day. 

She laughed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling away to wipe her eyes. “I think we should have a toast,” she declared, picking up her glass of champagne. “To our baby.”

“To our baby,” Tulip echoed, taking up his glass and clinking it against hers. 

Things progressed swiftly after that. Once Tosca submitted their payment to Helos Medical Institute, she and Tulip flew to Sur’Kesh the following month so that their genetic tissue could be harvested. 

The process was more invasive than she’d been hoping. It seemed the salarian doctor in charge of their Cheir procedure wanted skin cells from  _ everywhere.  _ And blood. And in Tulip’s case, semen. The look of horror on her husband’s face when a lab technician handed him a specimen cup and a turian edition of Fornax had been priceless. Even funnier was when the tech had glanced at Tosca and then given Tulip a human-turian Fornax as well. 

They’d both had their fill of scalpels and needles by the time they returned to the Citadel. But then there was nothing to do but wait. And wait. And wait. The months seemed to drag with few updates other than that the procedure was in process. 

Finally, almost nine months to the day since Tosca had submitted payment, she received a message while on her lunch break. 

_ Mrs. Vallokius, _

_ The procedure to combine your and Mr. Vallokius’ genetic material into a single, turian offspring has been successful. As per our recommendation and your agreement, gestation in an artificial womb on site will commence immediately. The embryo will require six months to develop - the standard gestation for a turian.  _

_ You and your mate are free and encouraged to visit at least once during the gestation period so that speech and vocalizations may be recorded and played to your child as it grows. Please contact us with any questions or concerns.  _

_ Congratulations on your baby from everyone in the Helos Cheir program. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Doctor Astok Iks _

The piece of bread Tosca had been chewing nearly fell out of her mouth as she reread the message twice more, a huge smile splitting her face. Too excited to remain seated, she stood up and paced the staff lounge as she attempted to reach Tulip. 

The Steadfast was in Hierarchy space, patrolling near Taetrus. She had no idea what time or even day it was there, but she didn’t care. This information was too precious to be sent via an omni-message. She had to tell Tulip in person. 

He didn’t answer her call, likely on duty commanding the ship. But, she figured if she continued to blow-up his tool he’d eventually excuse himself and respond. Her hunch proved correct when after the tenth attempt to reach him, the line picked up. 

“What’s wrong?” Tulip’s voice buzzed over the connection. 

“He’s here!” Tosca squealed loudly, still pacing the lounge and not caring if her break was technically over five minutes ago. “He’s here Tulip! Our baby is here! Well, he’s on Sur’Kesh in an artificial womb, but the procedure was a success!” The words poured out of her in an exuberant rush. “When can you get leave?” she demanded. “We need to go visit him, the doctor wants to make voice and vocal recordings to play for him while he develops. He’ll be born in six months!” Tosca froze in place as realization hit her. “We’re parents, Tulip!” She giggled into the audio connection on her tool, waiting for her husband’s response. 

“The procedure was a success?” Tulip’s voice was strangled with a keening, whistling vocalization she hadn’t heard before. Somehow, she instinctively knew he was as overcome with emotion as she was. 

“You’re going to be a father,” she told him, giggle turning into full on laughter. She looked all the world like a deranged lunatic, cackling crazily into her wrist. “Our baby is here!”

The noise Tulip was making with his subvocals became louder as he laughed through the connection. “He’s here,” he repeated, disbelief and awe ringing through both larynxs. I can't believe he’s here.”

It took another three months for Tulip to get approval for personal leave. Then, they spent the entire flight to Sur’Kesh discussing names. Despite offering up few suggestions of his own, Tulip had strong opinions about every name Tosca suggested. 

Gaius sounded too stuffy. Plinius was outdated. He’d known someone on Pons named Nero and they were an asshole. 

Tosca was beyond annoyed by the time their shuttle docked and they piled into a skycar. “What about Balthazar?” she suggested, as Tulip input their destination. 

“Balthazar? Like my father?” Tulip hummed, looking as though he were considering it for a moment before shaking his head, vocals sounding out his rejection. “My dad’s name always reminded me of  _ balthan  _ spice. Too easy for other kids to tease.”

“I haven’t heard you come up with anything,” Tosca scowled. “Other than that cartoon character.”

“Ulther is a great name,” Tulip defended as their skycar pulled up to the massive building that housed the Helos Institute. 

Tosca rolled her eyes as they grabbed their travel bags and walked through the doors and into the chilled air of the lobby. She had another name in mind, but given how dismissive Tulip had been of everything else, she needed to wait for the perfect moment to suggest it.

A salarian receptionist with mottled, pale grey skin checked their identification before directing them to a hallway with an elevator at the end. They apparently needed the sub-basement level. 

They fidgeted quietly as the lift decended deeper into the facility. When the elevator opened into a crisp, white room without any adornment, Tosca wondered if they’d somehow ended up in the wrong location. Before she could ask Tulip, they were abruptly met by a lanky, salarian attendant who seemed to have materialized out of thin air. 

“Ah! The Vallokius,’ he greeted. “Come, please follow me.” He ushered them through several sets of bio-scan locked doors and into another, moderately sized room, talking the entire time. Something about the Helos mission and history and warnings not to touch anything without permission. Tosca tuned out most of what he was saying as the objects in this new room came into focus. 

The space had a large, cylindrical tank in the center filled with pale, violet fluid. Tubes and wires connected to the tank fed into monitors which displayed vitals such as heartbeat, oxygen levels, and pH levels. There were other things being monitored as well, but Tosca didn’t spend long trying to decipher what they were as a small, abstract but recognizable shape came into view. 

Next to her, she heard Tulip gasp as the fetus - their  _ son  _ \- filled their vision. Tosca barely managed not to reach out and touch the tank. The attendant had been  _ very  _ adamant that they weren’t to touch anything and she could feel his critical gaze on her back. But seeing it - him - suddenly made it real. Their child was a real, tangible being, halfway to being a fully fledged turian chick. 

“Have something you'd like to say?” the attendant asked after they’d stared mutely at the tank for what felt like an eternity. “Can play back speech and subvocals. Will allow chick to learn your voices,” he advised, tapping his omni-tool and holding out a recording screen. 

“Hello,” Tosca said into the screen, watching the orange line peak at the sound. “I’m your mommy.” She smiled, glancing over to Tulip who had turned to watch her. “I can’t wait to meet you,” she went on. “You have two aunts and a grandmother who are super excited to meet you, too. And cousins, and family friends. You’re so, so loved already.”

The attendant turned his sable eyes to Tulip in expectation. Tulip stepped closer, vocals whirring in discomfort. “Umm,” he said a bit too close to the speaker so the sound bar stuttered. “I’m… I’m your dad. It’s… good to finally meet you.”

Tosca nodded in encouragement when he looked at her, seeming entirely out of his depth. “Can you sing to him?” she asked. “You have such a beautiful voice.”

“Uhh.” Tulip’s eyes shot to the attendant. 

“Wonderful idea. Many parents record lullabies for their children,” he nodded. 

Tulip’s subharmonics buzzed. He didn’t sing for anyone other than Tosca and the attendant’s presence was clearly making him uncomfortable with the notion. 

“Hey,” Tosca said gently, taking him by the elbow and turning him back toward the tank. Inside, the fetus twiched stubby arms, tiny fingers curling into his hand. “It’s for him,” Tosca whispered, leaning against Tulip’s side. 

Tulip sucked in a deep breath as the attendant walked closer, recording program held out. After a pregnant pause, Tulip started to sing in a low voice:

_ They didn't have you where I come from _

_ Never knew the best was yet to come _

_ Life began when I saw your face _

_ And I hear your laugh like a serenade. _

Gradually, Tulip’s voice became louder, vocals thick with emotion spilling into the spoken words as he stared at their child. 

_ How long do you wanna be loved _

_ Is forever enough, is forever enough _

_ How long do you wanna be loved _

_ Is forever enough _

_ 'Cause I'm never, never giving you up. _

When he’d finished, the attendant smiled. “Lovely,” he commented. “Can stay another ten minutes, then need to leave for day. Will allow you some privacy, but do not touch anything.” The salarian slipped back through the doors leaving Tosca and Tulip alone with their baby. 

Inside the tank, the fetus wiggled as Tulip continued to hum the lyrics in his vocals. 

“Julian.” Tosca said as she watched their child. In response, their son flipped onto his side. Tosca grinned before looking up at Tulip. “I think he likes it,” she commented. “It’s a good, strong name, with an impressive pedigree in human history. What do you think?”

Tulip gazed down at her before his eyes drifted back to their son. “Hello, Julian,” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, biggest thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this chapter. 
> 
> For those curious, the song Tenzen sings to Julian is "How Long do you Want to be Loved" by the Dixie Chicks.


	26. Full Circle

The date for Julian’s scheduled “birth” fell during the rainy season in Sur’Kesh’s capital. The humidity hung in the air thick enough to slice with an omni-blade while oppressive heat peeled away at the already frayed layers of Tenzen’s sanity. 

Being amphibious, the salarian population reveled in the perpetual damp. He’d overhead more than a few conversations centering around the _‘delightful’_ weather and how it was doing wonders for the speakers’ skin. 

For his own part, staying outside too long was courting swollen hide and skin infection from condensed moisture trapped under and between plates. At least he and Tosca were staying in a hotel with turian amenities. The commercial air blower in the bathroom was powerful enough to blast any lingering water droplets from his body. Tosca had tried standing under the cylindrical device, curiosity overpowering trepidation. Her hair had exploded around her face and head as she waved her hands around wildly in a parody of semaphore before stumbling backward to relative safety. 

She was over the humidity too. She complained that it made her hair frizzy and clothes unbearably moist. “I sweat while literally doing nothing!” she’d vented the night before as she stood in front of their room’s cooling unit, arms held as far away from her person as possible. “This place is a tropical hell!”

He supposed the flowering plants and vegetation that rioted in every square inch of soil were recompense for the oppressive climate. Color and fragrance unknown anywhere else bombarded the senses. He wondered vaguely if this was how it felt when biotics snorted red sand - he’d heard from a cabalist aboard the Steadfast that the high was like tripping through a kaleidoscope. 

It was worth the discomfort though. In a matter of hours, he and Tosca would be able to hold Julian in their arms. 

They once again descended in the elevator, down to the basement level of the Helos Institute.

Unlike before, this time they were greeted by a team of scientists. Doctor Iks was present, his white lab coat looking like it had been freshly starched, without a thread out of place. He was flanked by two assistants; one other salarian and one older looking asari. 

“Ah, good, on time,” Doctor Iks stated by way of a greeting. “Punctuality important. Want to make birthing process as easy on infant as possible. Have change of clothing for child?” he inquired, ebony eyes looking to Tosca. 

“Yeah, we bought-”

“Very good.” He waved Tosca off before she could pull out the outfit they’d brought from her duffel bag. “Come this way now,” he beckoned, leading them into the same monitor filled room they’d visited once before. 

The two nurses took up position at the largest monitor. The asari typed something onto the keypad while the salarian rearranged some of the cables and wires running from the tank. 

Tenzen stared at the small thing floating head-down in the pale-violet liquid. Gone were the unfinished contours and amorphous shapes. A perfect, miniature turian covered in infant down twitched as the fluid around him visibly pulsed. _His son._

“Will begin to simulate contractions - will prepare infant to use his lungs once amniotic fluid is flushed,” Doctor Iks was explaining. 

“How long will the birth take?” Tosca asked, coming to stand next to Tenzen.

“Ideal delivery time is one hour,” the doctor responded, a green speckled hand coming to stroke his chin while he trained his eyes on the tank. “Chick will be examined and immunized. Then, immediately placed in father’s cowl.”

Tenzen snapped to attention. “He’ll go immediately into my cowl?” he confirmed. 

“Yes,” the Doctor nodded. “Turian’s imprint with vocals and scent. Mother in this case is human, unable to make nesting calls and lacks cowl. Necessary for chick to learn father’s vocals.”

“I’d read about that,” Tosca said softly from her place standing next to him. “I can’t make the subvocal cues turian infants associate with their parents.” Her eyes fell to the floor as her shoulders slumped. 

Tenzen wrapped an arm around her waist, purring in comfort. “He’ll know your scent and warmth,” he assured her. “He’ll always know you’re his mother.”

“Very true,” Doctor Iks commented from where he’d moved to stare at a monitor. “Can hum something unique for child?” He glanced over his shoulder in their direction. “Infant can associate the specific tune with you. Not same as subharmonics, but will allow greater opportunity to bond.”

“Yeah,” Tosca agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That’ll work.”

The salarian nurse muttered something to the doctor, who typed a series of commands into his omni-tool in response. Tenzen fidgeted as the minutes dragged by. Everything was moving at a crawl - until suddenly it wasn’t. 

“Delivery imminent!” Doctor Ikes announced. The fluid inside the tank abruptly emptied and almost faster than his eyes could track, the doctor had opened a previously sealed hatch and pulled out a small, coughing baby.

The asari nurse flew into action, taking the chick from the doctor and placing him on a small, linen filled table. “Weight is 4lbs, 3 ounces. Length is 12 inches,” she recited to the salarian nurse who was ostensibly typing the information into his tool. 

A shrill keen erupted from the table and Tenzen could see tiny arms waving as the nurses quickly wrapped Julian in a diaper. He was fairly sure the salarian nurse administered a shot before suddenly a small, damp, scrawny baby was being held out to him. 

He froze as deep green eyes stared back at him and tiny mandibles flared with each breath. He could clearly see rich, mahogany plates under all the feathery down and on Julian’s head, small buds which would eventually fuse and harden into a fringe. 

“Bend down, Tulip,” Tosca prompted from where she was pressed tightly against his side.

Doing as instructed, the asari nurse placed Julian inside his cowl. The chick instinctively curled against the warm hide of Tenzen’s neck, soft, tired chirps sounding from his tiny vocals. The protective white down that covered his plates still held the scent of whatever fluid he’d been immersed in - something mildly acidic - but under that was a new smell. It reminded him somewhat of himself, though there were earthy, citrus nuances that were reminiscent of Tosca. 

“Tulip, he’s _gorgeous_ ,” Tosca whispered, face pressed against his as she stared down at their child. 

Tenzen felt his harmonics waver, the pitch and tone attempting to mirror his emotions. A deep, thrumming purr echoed in his chest, vibrating up his neck. ‘ _My son, my precious child. I’m here, I’ll protect you. Always and forever.’_

Julian peeped in response, impossibly small mandibles flicking out at the subvocal promise.

“Is that your nest call for him?” Tosca asked in a hushed tone, even as a finger moved to stroke Julian’s arm. Julian grasped the digit in his small hand, bringing his face close to sniff it.

“I think so,” Tenzen answered, eyes never leaving the tiny, perfect being nestled safely in his cowl. 

“Ah, instinct to call for child strong in turian parents,” Doctor Iks commented, coming to stand in front of them. “Call specific to chick, child can identify his parent out of large crowd. Useful adaptation,” he noted.

“Doctor Iks, thank you,” Tosca beamed, tearing her eyes off Julian to give the man a glowing smile. 

“No thanks necessary,” the doctor assured, though he grinned as he continued, “pleasure is all mine. Enjoy helping make families whole.”

After a few more minutes where Julian was scanned by the salarian nurse, they were sent to a small room upstairs. They would stay at the Institute overnight and then return to their hotel. It would be another four weeks before Julian’s skeletal structure was strong enough for space travel and the return trip back to the Citadel. 

As Tenzen lay in the decently sized bed at the Institute, the thrumming, purring vocal specific to his son rippling through him, Tosca pressed against his chest, face inside his cowl to nuzzle their child, he decided that Sur’Kesh was the greatest planet in the known universe. No amount of rain or humidity could dampen his current mood. In a word, his world was perfect. 

**********

It was almost strange to be home after everything that had happened on Sur'Kesh. Their apartment wasn’t just theirs anymore; every surface and wall now bore witness to the fact that there was a baby living here too. Teething rings and dolls, tubes of croup milk, bibs, blankets, and of course holos of an impossibly small, fluffy infant filling frames that had previously housed landscapes.

Tosca hummed to Julian as she read through the news on her omni-tool. Tulip had to return to work in another week and was compensating by practically having Julian live in his cowl. Tosca still had another four weeks leave and had to nearly pry the chick away from him so Tulip would go shower. 

Julian twittered against her cheek from his place curled up in a sling against her neck. It was as close to a cowl as she could get, and happily, Julian seemed to enjoy it. Tosca moved her head to plant a sweet kiss on his small brow. 

Najat, Fatima and her mother were due to arrive in three days, eager to meet the newest addition to the family. Their friends were all anxious to see the baby as well. Trajan and Yua wanted to introduce him to their human Cheir, Violet. 

Tosca smiled at the thought that they’d barely been home a few days and already Julian had an entourage of adoring fans. With the added help, she’d _possibly_ be able to pull Tulip out for a dinner free from squeals or dirty diapers. 

Trella had connected them with a wonderful daycare provider for when Tosca inevitably had to return to work. It was run by an asari matriarch with over 500 years of experience and catered to children from all different species. Normally, it would have been beyond their budget, but Trella had convinced the owner to give Tosca and Tulip a discount. Tosca suspected that having a Cheir among her flock was an alluring draw for the old asari and her daughters. 

A chime from the door pulled her from her thoughts. They weren’t expecting anyone. “Tulip!” she called, a hand coming up to cradle Julian’s small head. “Someone’s at the door!”

Tulip appeared from the bedroom freshly showered and in new clothes notably free of any regurgitated croup milk. Julian had a habit of hacking up the meat paste into Tulip’s cowl unless he was thoroughly burped. 

Tulip peered through the camera monitor on the front door before scoffing. “It’s Amadeus,” he informed her, opening the door. 

“Tenzen!” the old krogan greeted, stepping through the entryway, arms laden with boxes and bags. “I know you’re still settling in, but I was in the area and thought I’d drop by with some gifts and to see the little one.”

“Hey, Amadeus,” Tosca called, waving to him. Julian squirmed inside his sling, vocals revving up into a hungry squawk. 

Amadeus gasped before shoving his armful of gifts into Tulip’s arms, blowing past him so quickly that her husband got pressed up against the wall with a disgruntled huff.

“Oh, he’s beautiful!” their old friend exclaimed, coming to sit next to Tosca on the couch. 

Julian continued to whine, demanding food. “May I?” Amadeus offered, amethyst eyes looking to Tosca. 

She nodded, gently handing over the chick before rising from the couch to warm another tube of croup milk. Much as some humans preferred to feed their infants formula rather than nurse, turians had developed tubed croup milk. It was more convenient than having to regurgitate pulverized food into a chick’s mouth. It also reduced staring from other species. 

Outside Hierarchy space, the tubed meat paste was the preference for newborns. This allowed Tosca to help Tulip with feedings and for that, they were both thankful. 

Tulip moved to sit beside Amadeus, pride shining in his emerald eyes. Gently, Tulip carded his talons through Julian's down, revealing his mahogany color. “Look, his plates are the same beautiful shade as Tosca’s hair,” he informed. 

Amadeus smiled down at Julian who’d ceased keening and was staring up at the old krogan in wonder. “You and Tosca made a lovely child,” he agreed before glancing over to her husband. “You wear fatherhood well, Tenzen. It suits you.”

Tulip dipped his head as Tosca gave him the warm croup milk. Amadeus handed Julian over and, after carefully pinching the mandibles shut, Tulip offered their son the nozzle of the tub. So far, the chick’s favorite flavor was _xemna_ meat, and Tosca teased he truly was his father’s son. 

Remembering his previous hunger, Julian guzzled down his food with a zest that made Tosca chuckle. 

“Oh! Before I forget, I wanted to show you something, Tosca.” Amadeus pulled up his omni-tool, studying it for a moment before hitting a few commands. Tosca felt her own tool chime on her wrist. Amadeus had sent her an extranet link to a turian fledgling fashion site. Clicking on it, she sucked in an excited breath. 

The top listed item was a matching parent and child tunic set featuring western-themed symbols. Cactus's, sheriff’s badges, cowboy boots and bucking broncos adorned the shirts. “Oh my god! Tulip! You and Julian can wear matching clothes!” She enthusiastically shoved the image in front of him.

Tulip stared at the pictures, mandibles clamped tightly to his face in displeasure. He opened his mouth, ostensibly to protest, but only managed a pitiful, “umm.”

“I know how much you two like to wear matching outfits,” Amadeus explained, turning to Tulip with a massive grin plastered to his face. “Now you can match your baby! Isn’t that marvelous, Tenzen? You can wear the same fashion as an infant!”

Tulip’s eyes narrowed into splinters as he glared at the delighted krogan. “How convenient that you just stumbled upon this store,” he deadpanned. 

“And, Tosca, there’s a sister store where you can get matching apparel for yourself,” Amadeus continued, ignoring Tulip’s comment. “You simply _must_ send me a group photo of yourselves if you get anything.”

“We’re definitely getting a few outfit sets,” Tosca assured him as she continued to peruse the different items and styles offered. She distinctly heard Tulip sigh, but shrugged it off. He’d wear a matching tunic with Julian for a few silly pictures - even if he did think it was ridiculous. 

Squeezing in next to her husband, the three adults admired different outfits and fussed over the baby. It was crazy to think that when they’d all met six years ago, Tulip and Amadeus hated each other and she’d thought Tulip was a racist asshole. How far they’d come, Tosca marveled, as Julian’s tiny eyes drifted shut from his place in Tulip’s arms. 

Quietly, she thanked whatever spirits or deities were listening for her fortune. Loving relationships in full bloom; nobody could ask for anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading - this fic wouldn't be half as good without her (in my humble opinion).
> 
> We're almost at the end! Final chapter is an epilogue that will lead into my Ring of Fire series. I hope everyone has enjoyed watching Tenzen and Tosca's relationship mature and blossom. I had a lot of fun writing this story and love the characters dearly.


	27. Epilogue

Tenzen stretched his neck, holding down on his armored cowl as he rolled out stiff muscles. He’d been staring at the star chart too long again. His obsession with plotting the most efficient course to the ports the Steadfast patrolled made him a favorite with superiors; though his body often suffered from lack of sleep and strain.

Glancing at his omni-tool, he decided it wasn’t so late that he couldn’t call and check in with Tosca and Julian. At seven years old, his son enjoyed giving him a “daily report” on what had happened at home during his father’s absence: Things Julian had done in school or with friends, what mom had said or cooked for dinner. A tired, content purr slipped from Tenzen’s vocals as he rode the elevator up to the third level of the ship. Julian’s reports were the only ones he ever looked forward to receiving. 

As he strode down the hall toward his private quarters, he noticed a pair of booted feet hanging from the lip of an alcove window. Rumbling in confusion, he walked closer, eyes meeting the crimson gaze of Kabalim Malolin. Despite being in command of the cabal unit permanently assigned to the Steadfast for the last two years, the young biotic preferred to keep to himself. If he considered it, Tenzen couldn’t actually recall the man ever attending a social gathering that wasn’t mandatory. 

The Kabalim - Tassius - had a data pad in hand, though he quickly turned the screen off at Tenzen’s approach. “Captain,” he greeted, dipping his head in respect. The lights reflected on his exotic russet plating, making him appear to glow.

“An odd place to read, Kabalim,” Tenzen noted, a teasing lilt to his subvocals. 

Tassius cleared his throat, looking momentarily like a young child who wasn’t sure whether or not they were in trouble for something. “Just trying to quiet my mind. I can go to my quarters,” he replied, moving to stand. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” Tenzen assured. Tassius maintained his tense posture. His professionalism and stoic demeanor often caused Tenzen to forget just how young Tassius was - among the youngest Kabalims in Hierarchy service. _An old soul,_ Tosca had called him when they’d met at an obligatory function on the Citadel. Tenzen personally thought _workaholic_ was a better description. 

Tenzen considered advising Tassius of the sparing competition taking place in the cargo hold. There was nothing quite like a talons bared, plate cracking match to burn off energy and unwind. Then again, Tassius was a biotic - a powerful one too from what Tenzen had seen. Tenzen had no issues with those in the cabal, but centuries of prejudice dictated that they be seen as _‘other’_ among their own race. 

“I’d normally suggest a spar to ease tension before bed, but…” Tenzen trailed off. 

Tassius’s russet mandibles twitched minutely though his expression and vocals remained neutral. “Reading is the least intrusive way to relax,” he responded. 

It was a disgrace that turian society still treated their biotics as untrustworthy freaks. Especially given relations with the asari. Though, Tenzen supposed he nursed his own prejudices. Vague memories of meeting Amadeus and Tosca formed in his mind’s eye. He pushed them away. He’d been young and ignorant. That wasn’t who he was now. 

He offered Tassius a friendly rumble, reassurance echoing in his vocals. “Those who judge biotics purely for _what_ they are, not _who_ they are can ‘get bent’ as the humans say.” Tassius’ eyes went wide. Clearly, he wasn’t used to this type of sentiment. “If reading helps you relax, then feel free to stay here as long as you want,” Tenzen added.

Tassius’ facial plates relaxed and a soft, almost shy subvocal offered a _‘thank you.’_

Tenzen turned to head for his room. “Good night, Tassius,” he called, intentionally using the Kabalim’s given name with friendly subharmonic undertones. 

Perhaps Tassius could find stress release in other ways, Tenzen mused as he settled into his quarters. Though despite an attractive appearance, Tassius was likely to run into the same suspicions if seeking someone outside the cabal to rut. Tenzen’s eyes alighted on a family photograph he had mounted in a frame above his bed. Tosca’s bright, loving smile stared back, one hand placed on Julian’s small shoulder, the other gripping Tenzen’s own. There were always options outside the race, he thought fondly. 

His omni-tool pinged with an incoming call from his communications specialist. Tenzen groaned loudly into the quiet of his room. “Yes?” he asked tersely. 

“Sir, it’s Sergei Kedar again with Hahne-Kedar Armory,” the specialist advised. “It’s the fourth time today he’s directly contacted the ship asking for you.”

Tenzen snorted. He’d give his left mandible prong to know _who_ told the human arms manufacturer that _“Captain Vallokius had a soft spot for humanity.”_ While that might be true socially, when it came to work, he didn’t generally go outside Hierarchy channels. 

“Is this about that extended sales pitch he somehow convinced Command was a great idea?” Tenzen inquired, not bothering to keep his snide vocals in check. 

“I believe so, Sir,” came the response. “Should I tell him you’re not interested in hosting his daughter for this scheme?”

Tenzen hesitated. Sergei Kedar wanted to send his _daughter?_ From what he knew about the Kedar family, their daughter was fairly young, though she was poised to take over the company. If he was remembering correctly, Gwen Kedar was actually close in age to Tassius. 

Tenzen felt his mandibles flare out in a sly smile. “I’ll talk to Mr. Kedar,” he informed the specialist. “Transfer the connection to the kiosk in my quarters.”

“Yes, Sir,” came the mildly surprised reply before the line closed. 

Tenzen tapped out a quick message to Tosca, telling her he’d call as soon as he finished a work matter. 

**We’ll wait up for you, Tulip. Julian has a lengthy report to deliver - his Hierarchy studies class discussed Pons today.**

Tenzen chuckled as he sat down at his desk. Perhaps having a representative from the Hahne-Kedar armory on board could be an asset to his crew. The company was well regarded galactically and had manufactured a turian-specific armor they were hoping to mass produce for the Hierarchy. The ability to try new, cutting edge technology was an opportunity he ought to take advantage of. And if the young Gwen Kedar and Tassius happened to get along... Well. Who was to say he couldn’t take a page from Amadeus’ book playing the _‘Fairy Godfather of romance?’_

Shaking the humor out of his expression and voice, he opened the call. “Mr. Kedar,” he greeted. “I understand you’re interested in having your daughter reside on board the Steadfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading. 
> 
> For those who haven't read my Ring of Fire series with Tassius and Gwen, I wrote that series first and had Tenzen and Tosca as side characters. I liked them so much, I wrote this fic as their origin story, haha. 
> 
> I will attach my human-turian dictionary to this work some time next week and welcome others to use the terms if they'd like. =)


	28. Dictionary of Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up a bunch of turian words/phrases which I use in almost all my works! Please feel free to use, though I'd appreciate it if you said where you got the term from so others may reference as well.

  1. Scortum – sexual predator or whore



  1. Spiritus Auream -- A spirit of Palaven’s sun, Trebia. While not personified like human spirits with a physical body, these spirits are said to be made of pure, golden light, and are immensely powerful and revered.



  1. Aureola – A special type of crown formally worn by high ranking turians centuries ago. Resembles a halo.



  1. Coelum – The turian version of heaven, where the spirits of Trebia dwell.



  1. Dea – A word taken from the asari, loosely translates to Goddess.



  1. Erat Herba: A park in Cipritine comparable to Central Park in New York City. The Latin word literally means vegetation.



  1. Taetrian Laudatix: The ministry of citizenship rankings on Taetrus. Each Hierarchy planet has its own Laudatix.



  1. Shalta: A large, armor plated and tusked land animal native to the woodland areas of Palaven.



  1. Asinus – Palaveni word for an idiot or fool.



  1. Amicae – the turian version of a girlfriend or exclusive significant other.



  1. Quadrupes Graditur – A turian sex position similar to “doggie-style.”



  1. Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard.”



  1. Delectamenti – A turian specialty shop on the Citadel.



  1. Taetrus Festum – A fish dish from the turian colony world, Taetrus, notable for its rich sauce.



  1. Salmo – A very large, heavy-scaled, fresh water fish, similar to an Arapaima from Earth.



  1. Domine – A polite version of “Sir” used for people outside the military. Generally used for elders.



  1. Yuba Sauce – A vegetable and meat stock sauce popular with fish.



  1. Culus – Colloquial Taetrun word for “asshole.”



  1. Carissime – A Palaveni endearment, means loosely “my dearest love.”



  1. Tevik – A predatory creature from Palaven that stalks it’s prey with elongated, graceful strides to its gait.



  1. Oserun – A ceremony that recognizes the promotion of turians to a new citizenship tier. It is a very formal, public event.



  1. Aeternum Song – Loosely translates to “heart song,” and is a type of vocalization turians make for their romantic partners. The song is specific to the mate, if a turian has more than one partner in a lifetime, the new song will vary drastically.



  1. Malum – A small sweet fruit, similar to an apple



  1. Altera Domi – Translates to “second home,” and is the name of the Bed and Breakfast run by Tassius’s family



  1. Ludos – A common game played by turian children, involves walking exactly in another person’s footprints while trying to stay in a straight line.



  1. Subplantat – A slang word for “pervert.”



  1. Flos – A type of beautiful, silver flower native to Palaven.



  1. Gantu – An armored, pungent creature, native to Taetrus which fills a similar ecological niche to that of the American Opossum.



  1. Promissum – The turian version of an engagement or proposal, refers more to the ritual of bringing another person into the clan. Has greatly fallen out of use in turian modern culture.



  1. Vinum – A type of turian wine, can come in a burgundy or sparkling variety.



  1. Corda – An older term of Palaveni origin, loosely translates to “the reason for my heart beat” and is often used between mates.



  1. Parvus – Palaveni word for “tiny one” or “lovely small thing,” used often for babies.



  1. Spona – The turian version of a fiancé, or else a person betrothed to another.



  1. Dilectæ – A Palaveni endearment, translates to “my beloved spouse.”



  1. Crustulam Cibum – A type of small meat cake filled with herbs and baked meat. A common breakfast food for turians.



  1. Xemna – A large type of herd animal used for food. The turian equivalent of a cow or beef.



  1. Louza – A type of dextro poultry. The turian version of chicken.



  1. Mexta – A short sword often used in duels. Are frequently worn by high ranking military officials during important social events.



  1. Fulgur Manus – Translated, means “lightning talons” and is a hand-to-hand combat technique used by turian biotics where their energy is focused into their claws for ripping, slashing attacks.



  1. Ad vitam est scriptor – An old Palaveni phrase, translates to “my reason for living.” An extremely intimate phrase, since turians are taught that sacrifice for the people and cause are their duty. Saying this to a mate essentially tells them they are worth more than anyone else; a radical notion for a turian.



  1. Vastum – Slang word for cowards, literally translates to garbage or waste.



  1. Pallii – The turian equivalent of a kilt, worn by males around the house. Basically, turian sweatpants.



  1. Proditor – A derogatory term for biotics. Means traitor or freak but with implications that their biotics are what makes them unclean and “other.”



  1. Crassusa – A type of tree native to Taetrus with, large, round trunks and an umbrella of mauve colored leaves at the tops. Very drought resistant.



  1. Sorden mos – A term for lowly, craven cowards of the worst variety.



  1. Nitatis – A term used to describe the act of knotting. Translates to “becoming one” since the partners are tied together for up to thirty minutes.



  1. Sorora – translates to “chosen sister” and is a term to describe a deep, familial relationship between too women unrelated by blood.



  1. Irruma – Turian curse word similar to “fuck” though not as frequently used.



  1. Rí – An infantile version of father, the human equivalent being “dada.” Used by very young turian chicks.



  1. Amor facit – The act of “making love” or sexual intercourse with intense romantic feelings behind it.



  1. Marcas Dignus – Translates to “kinship marks” and is a type of tattoo pattern used by turians to proclaim their familial relationships; i.e. mates represented by two solid lines running along the keel and children or progeny as arrows. The color can vary though the design remains the same.



  1. Frigus weed – A type of aquatic plant with numbing properties, frequently used for operations.



  1. Lacerta – A creature that is reptilian in nature and used similarly to a horse. Before the industrial age, turians rode these creatures as a means of faster transport, and on agrarian colony worlds lacerta are still often used as mounts.



  1. Nox – A bat-like creature the size of a domestic house cat, used to carry messages across the Palaveni desert.



  1. Remugit Table – A table made from the wood of a rare tree found only on Palaven. These tables amplify the subharmonics of turians when their hands are laid flat upon its surface and are commonly used in meetings and delegations were transparency and honesty are in question.



  1. Racun - A nocturnal, scavenging creature similar to a raccoon, though with copper-colored, chitinous plates instead of fur. Native to Pons.



  1. Sorgan - A spicy herb akin to sage.




End file.
